


Semblance

by SheLitAFire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Astrology, Azkaban, Cross-Generational Friendship, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Discussion of Abortion, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fertility Issues, Kindred Spirits, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Post-Canon, Prophecy, References to Depression, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Snape needs some love, Social Commentary, Social Issues, Wizarding Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 190,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10989363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheLitAFire/pseuds/SheLitAFire
Summary: "Stop always trying to save me," Snape choked on his words, blood pooling in his mouth. "I'm not trying to save you, I'm just trying to love you."This story is a Slow Burn, with another set of villains ready to play havoc.Post Hogwarts Years. Somewhat Canon Divergent. Lots of Canon Characters Included. This is NOT a light, fluffy story! Consider yourself warned!Semblance: to resemble; outward appearance especially when the reality is different; auraSTATUS: Chapter 30 scheduled for 7/21/18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything related to the Harry Potter universe. All characters, locations, and underlying storyline is J.K. Rowling’s. I am thankful she gives her blessing to fans who are inspired by her universe and want to write fanfiction. 
> 
> A/U & Assumptions for this Story:  
> 1\. Dumbledore was still alive for the Battle of Hogwarts, it’s not a major point of the story but I’ll cover it a bit more in later chapters  
> 2\. Harry, Ron, & Hermione are present at Hogwarts for their 7th year (although Harry & Dumbledore were searching for Horcruxes)  
> 3\. Snape survived (OBVIOUSLY, say it with me, in his voice)  
> 4\. Hermione will seem like a Mary Sue in this 1st chapter, but she will NOT be depicted that way in every chapter.

**Prologue (April 28, 1998)**

Sybill Trelawney convulsed on the floor, her face distorted. Two pairs of pale blue eyes watched her with concern. Her voice rumbled out, filling the headmaster’s office:

**“The dark lord approaches…  
** **The girl with ‘very little aura’ is called…against her will…  
** **To the place where the Grindylows sleep  
** **She will go to the one whom you trust  
** **They are in grave danger…”**

Albus Dumbledore gave a quick nod, interpreting her meaning. “Fawkes,” he called. The bird gracefully swooped down to him, landing on his outstretched arm. He whispered something in the creature’s ear, gently stroking its colorful feathers. Giving it a pat, he moved his arm up and the magnificent bird flapped its wings, causing loose parchment on the desk to fly into the air. The bird soared out the window, flying slowly, watching the school grounds.

Minerva McGonagall looked back and forth from Trelawney to Dumbledore in alarm.

A few more jerks and then Trelawney went rigid. Her eyes glazed over. Her chest heaved upwards and she made a sound as if she was trying to suck all of the air out of the room and into her body. Silence for a few seconds and then a loud gurgling sound, that seemed to echo off the walls, filled the office. McGonagall clutched at her heart, truly terrified, but Dumbledore stood patiently his hands clasped in front of him, watching Trelawney expectantly.

**“Seven will approach seven,  
By the end of the seventh year  
the stage will be set, the characters in position  
** **Evil will not rest.  
** **The two who will rot in the cage  
** **The two who held hands at birth  
** **Two pureblood snakes, coiled together in marriage  
** **The one thought to be eliminated by a kiss  
** **The Outside threatens those Within…”**

“Minerva,” Dumbledore’s deep voice made McGonagall jump, she had been so transfixed on Trelawney. “Make sure you keep this memory protected. It’s of utmost importance.” She could only nod in response, as she stood trembling; horror, she could not hide, etched across her face.

But Sybill Trelawney’s Sight had more to reveal…

* * *

**Chapter 1 (5 Years Later…)**

Hermione Granger looked up at the castle with the same optimism and wonder she’d had as a first year student. A flood of memories washed over her. Some painful, some truly awful, but most were happy, comforting, or bittersweet to say the least.

She adjusted the straps of her bulging book bag. The straps dug into her shoulder as the weight of it bore down upon her. She had over prepared. Again.

 _Oh well_ , she sighed. _No use in denying it._ She _was_ an overachiever. _But_ , she reasoned, _being an overachiever has certainly gotten me places in the last 5 years_. Only 23-years-old she had built up quite a distinguished resume since leaving Hogwarts in 1998.

The students who survived the Battle of Hogwarts had been allowed to take the N.E.W.T. exams in the fall after months of recuperation and the restoration of the school. Then the 7th year classmates went their separate ways. Well, mostly. She, Ron, and Harry continued to remain pretty much inseparable. The three of them rented a flat in London as they all went to work for the Ministry of Magic; the two boys as Aurors and she, interning for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Harry and Ginny became an official couple just weeks after the battle, although Hermione had a feeling they had been secretly dating since Bill and Fleur’s wedding, probably wanting to avoid Ron’s reaction for as long as possible. Ginny moved in with them soon after her own graduation in 1999, much to Ron’s discomfort at first. But the apartment proved to be just a little too snug with four occupants, and they decided to part ways in regard to their living conditions.

Hermione found a quaint little cottage for herself on the outskirts of London, happy to have a refuge from society, a place where she could curl up with a book or turn to research for days without anyone interrupting her. Her friends argued against her habit to be a social recluse, so she made sure to join them just enough to stop their pestering and appease them. Ginny and Harry found an apartment in a trendy part of the city, a district with lots of shops and nightlife to offer. Unwilling to move out of the original apartment, Ron talked Neville, who had joined Harry and Ron as an Auror, into moving in with him and the two grew closer than anyone expected.

But now Hermione was back at the school, her eyes fixed with determination. She entered the castle and made her way towards the headmistress’s office. Despite her attempts to tame her unruly hair, the July humidity had force wayward curls to break loose from her knotted updo. She felt most uncomfortable wearing heels, she _loathed_ high heels, but Ginny had insisted that these were the only shoes that worked well with the pinstripe pencil skirt Hermione had chosen to wear. So she stumbled along, pretending like she knew how to walk in heels, her feet feeling raw and aching terribly.

She smiled and greeted the portraits she passed. Despite any physical discomfort, she felt happy, as if she was coming _home_ from a long vacation. _This just feels right._  

* * *

“This is an impressive resume, Ms. Granger, especially for someone as young as yourself. But that doesn’t surprise me, you were always a go-getter. Top of your class, ambitious, had a good head on your shoulders. You’ve made both Hogwarts and Gryffindor proud.”

Hermione beamed under McGonagall’s praise. Her former house head had always been at the top of Hermione’s list to impress and please.

The older woman looked out over her glasses, perched on the end of her nose, studying Hermione. “I do find it interesting that you applied for the position of Potions Professor. I knew you excelled at that subject, but I didn’t know it was that great of an interest for you.”

“Well,” Hermione leaned forward, her eyes merry, her face lit up with excitement. “I don’t want to limit myself just yet. I want as much experience as I can get in various fields. But I’ve always thought I’d like to teach at some point and with my high N.E.W.T. scores in Potions, I feel as though I am capable of teaching this subject. I’m also interested in potion experimentation, with the access to research the school allows. It coordinates with some growing interest I have in eventually combining my previous work with the International Community with medical research at St. Mungo’s.”

“Oh my, Ms. Granger, you are even more driven that I realized,” McGonagall’s eyes were tearing up, pride radiated from her face.  
“Well, my dear, as you know, step two of the hiring process is an interview with other faculty members and then I will confer with them privately for the final decision. But as far as I’m concerned you are a top candidate and would be a great addition to our faculty. You have always been a natural leader and teacher. And I would love to see you lead Gryffindor House, with all the dignity and courage you had as a student.”

“Thank you, Prof-I mean Headmistress McGonagall,” Hermione blushed at her gaffe. “I truly appreciate your encouraging words and consideration.” Hermione smiled warmly at the woman, standing up and gathering her bag and folders. She held out her hand confidently to McGonagall before turning her attention to Dumbledore’s portrait.

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” she said respectfully. She looked up and tapped her hand over her heart a couple of times.

“I’ll give Harry your love, of course.”

Minerva turned towards Dumbledore’s portrait after Hermione retreated, her eyes still shimmering. “Just look at our girl now. She’s the embodiment of youth and vitality.” Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “Indeed. And she has a much more important role to play than she ever imagined. You must begin to prepare, make sure they stay the course.”

Minerva looked concerned. “But, Albus, wouldn’t that be tampering with the prophecy if I get involved?”

He shook his head, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “No, you are merely assisting the prophecy. Similar to the ways I assisted Trelawney’s earlier prophecies. She may be pliable enough. _He_ , on the other hand-”

“I know,” Minerva responded, her voice resigned.   

* * *

Hermione left Headmistress McGonagall’s office with a bounce in her step, completely forgetting the pain in her feet. She couldn’t contain her smile, optimistic that this next adventure would be just as wonderful as her former jobs with the Ministry.

Practically skipping down the stairs she failed to notice Severus Snape lurking at the bottom, still in his routine habit of hiding in the shadows. His perpetual scowl deepened. _What is she doing here?_

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor took to the stairs she just descended, taking two or three at a time, his school robe swishing around his legs. He was out of breath by the time he knocked on Minerva’s door.

“Severus, what can I do for you?”

“What was she doing here?”

“Who?”

“Granger. _Ms._ Granger, I mean.” He shot a quick look at Dumbledore’s portrait, his eyes apologetic for his slip.

“She applied for your old position.”

“Potions Professor? Is she even qualified? She still looks like a student.”

Minerva laughed. “Oh Severus. It’s been five years. She’s in her mid 20s now. And while…yes, I agree, she’s a bit fresh faced, I think she would breathe a lot of that youth and energy back into this place. The faculty is so…old.”

Snape grimaced. But Minerva continued, “plus, weren’t you nearly the same age when Albus hired you?” She raised her eyebrows at him, tilting her head.

“He was even younger,” Dumbledore chimed in, his voice amused. Snape rolled his eyes.

“Well I didn’t think she had that much interest in the subject, other than memorizing all the information and rattling off answers like an encyclopedia.”

“Severus,” Minerva gave him a reproachful look. Snape sunk into a chair, slouching like a teenage boy. “We will be interviewing her as a faculty at the end of the week. You can test her aptitude then. But her resume is quite impressive.” She handed him a piece of parchment.

He read it wearily.

 

**_Hermione Jean Granger_ **

**Education** :

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 1991-1998

 **Work Experience** :

Ministry of Magic, Department of International Magical Cooperation, 1998-2000

Intern

Ministry of Magic, 2000-2003

Special Assistant to Minster of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt

 **N.E.W.T. Achievements** :

Outstanding Marks-Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration

Exceeds Expectations-Herbology

 **Special Skills & Interests**:

Muggle Experience, Care of Magical Creatures, Diplomacy, Education, Conversational French, Experimental Charms and Potions

 

He snorted his disapproval. He hoped it drove her crazy that she only got an _Exceeds Expectations_ in Herbology. He wish he could have seen her face when she received her N.E.W.T. letter.

“So, we’ll be interviewing her Friday. Now will you stay and join me for some tea?”

Snape nodded, rubbing his forehead, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Is this how you felt when your former students started getting hired?”

“Oh probably. I went ballistic when you were hired,” Snape still had his head bowed in his hand, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “You’ll get used to it eventually.”

“I’d prefer _not_ to get used to it,” he said flatly.

She served him a cup and sat behind the desk, observing him over the edge of her cup as she sipped.

“I thought surely by now you all would be over your former prejudices.”

“They graduated and moved on. I figured I wouldn’t need to see them again.”

“You really believed that? I think Harry Potter will always be connected to this school in some way. I’m not at all surprised Hermione has shown an interest in teaching. Remember when she would lead their study groups? And I daresay I heard during 5th year she held potions seminars to help with students struggling in your classes.”

He made an exasperated face, but said nothing.

She smiled kindly at him. “Oh, Severus. She bears you no ill feelings and I’m surprised you’ve never been able to recognize that. Give her a chance.”

“Just like I’m given the same chance by Order members? They all still despise me. Come, Minerva, let’s not pretend that the battle changed anything. All those prejudices still exist on their end too. I will forever be judged and misunderstood.”

He sat back, looking at her frankly. He was not immune or sensitive to the truth about him. He had long accepted it.

She watched him sadly. “We shall see,” she said, almost inaudibly.

* * *

Hermione entered into the staff room and actually felt nervous as she surveyed her interview committee. Swallowing hard, she took the empty seat that faced the six faculty members. She willed herself to relax.

At either end of the long table sat Professor Sprout and an unfamiliar face of a middle age man. McGonagall introduced him as Professor Sebastian Keighly the new History of Magic teacher. Next to Sprout sat Professor Vector and next to Professor Keighly Professor Flitwick sat, his head not much higher than the table. That left Professors Snape and McGongall in the middle, directly opposite of Hermione’s chair.

She arranged her stack of parchment in front of her, trying to exude confidence, and looked up, meeting Snape’s sharp eyes. Her stomach dropped. He did not look pleased to be there.

She dropped her eyes. _Maybe this was a mistake._ She hadn’t seen Snape in years but she thought that by now, with everything that had happened during the battle and revealed afterwards, he would have shed his former hostility towards her. She had always been quick to defend him and tried remain positive about his faithfulness to Dumbledore as a student, despite his consistent attempts to ridicule her. While other Order members, including Harry and Ron, had remained dubious about his allegiance, he _had_ proved to be a diligent servant to Dumbledore and the Order.

She didn’t have much time to mull over her confusion, though. McGonagall’s voice broke the silence. “Tell us, Ms. Granger, why you’ve taken an interest in teaching?”

Hermione was grateful for the softball question. Her eyes softened and a faint smile appeared as her nervous tension dissipated.

The pedagogical questions continued as Sprout asked what skills Hermione had learned in previous jobs that she could carry into a teaching profession. Vector asked about discipline in the classroom. Keighly asked about her philosophy on homework and balancing practical application versus theoretical knowledge. Five pairs of heads continued to nod enthusiastically. Snape sat perfectly still, his black eyes intense, patiently bidding his time. Hermione dreaded what awaited her. 

Flitwick asked what she thought her greatest weakness and how she could improve upon it. At this question Hermione hesitated and caught Snape’s sardonic gaze. 

“I…I think, I _know,_ that I am too quick to think I know all the answers,” she stared hard at the table, concentrating. “I do struggle with having a prideful attitude and it has proven to be detrimental at times. I…I need to…learn how to carefully listen to others and not be so sure I have all the answers. As for working on that as a teacher, I want to make sure that the students know I have an open mind and can critically think about and accept other perspectives and ways of solving problems.”

Looking up she saw Flitwick scribbling something on a piece of parchment, nodding. McGonagall gave her a slight nod, trying to maintain an impartial face, but the crows feet wrinkles around her eyes indicated a smile was just below the surface. Hermione didn’t dare look at Snape, but she couldn’t resist for long.

“Ms. Granger,” he began, the syllables slowly easing out from his mouth. She reluctantly dragged her eyes from McGonagall’s to his. “According to your N.E.W.T. scores you _only_ got Exceeds Expectations in Herbology,” he sneered. “Do you think it wise to be in charge of potions and teaching others about it when your understanding of the plants you’ll need to use as ingredients is rudimentary?”

Hermione blanched.

“I hardly think Exceeds Expectations constitutes as rudimentary, Severus!” McGonagall’s voice was sharp.

“Anything less than outstanding, then.”

Professor Vector cleared her throat, very deliberately, but kept her eyes on Hermione. This seemed to quiet Snape and Hermione silently thanked the witch.

“Ms. Granger received Outstandings on all her other exams, I hardly think having one Exceeds Expectation should deter her,” McGonagall turned to her right looking Snape up and down. He kept his eyes glued to Hermione.

“Ms. Granger demonstrated proficiency in my class,” Sprout added, learning over the table to look down at him. “I am actually quite surprised she didn’t receive an Outstanding.”

“Then let…her…………prove _it_ ,” Snape spoke excruciatingly slow. His eyes pierced hers with such intensity that Hermione found she couldn’t look away from him. She felt her pulse throbbing through her body.

“What do you get mixing an infusion of wormwood with powdered root of asphodel?”

“-Living Death.”

“Should you cut or crush the Sopophorous bean in the Draught of Living Death?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, gritting her teeth. “ _Crush_ ,” she said resentfully, remembering how the Advanced Potions textbook directed students to cut the bean, but that Snape’s “Half-Blood Prince” copy had corrected it to crush to work more effectively. His lips quirked into a smirk.

“What is the result of mixing fluxweed _leaves_ instead of its seeds with asphodel and mistletoe berries?”

“It makes a poisonous gas.”

His questions sped up, almost rapid fire as she aimed to answer them all just as quickly.

“And what do you need for a Draught of Peace?”

“-Powdered Moonstone, Hellebore syrup, powered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn.”

“And the ingredients of a Memory Potion?”

“-Jobberknoll feathers”

 “What are the effects of an Emerald Potion?”

“-Extreme thirst and pain, fear and delirium that results in angry outbursts.”

“What can one use knotgrass for?”

“-Polyjuice potion”

“Anything else?”

Hermione paused for a second. “To…help fertility.”

“For a temperament modifying potion, what color and smell should it have?”

“-A wintergreen color and it should smell like a fresh pine trees.”

“And what specific type of oil do you need for it?”

“-Lily oil. _Five_ drops.” She added to her answer quickly, a spark in her eyes that challenged his. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“How long does Veritaserum need to brew for?”

“-A lunar cycle.”

“And its color and smell?”

“-Clear and odorless.”

“A bezoar that cures poisoning must come from the stomach of what mammal?”

“-A goat.”

“What is a good healing herb to use?”

“-Dittany.”

“And, tell me, how should one use it effectively?”

“-By eating it whole.”

“What is Panacea?”

“-A supposed cure for all diseases”

“And the alchemists who worked on panacea used what ingredients?”

“-Salt, vinegar, Sal Ammoniac, urine, and Sulphur Vive.”

Snape stopped his questioning, folding his arms across his chest and sitting back in his chair. For a brief moment he actually looked pleased with her, before his expression returned to its concealed, guarded state.

The rest of the room swirled around them and came back into view. During his interrogation it had seemed like they were the only two in the room and Hermione had completely forgotten about everyone else. She inhaled slowly and pried her eyes away from his to glance at the other faculty members. Everyone sat gaping at her. McGonagall quickly collected herself, straightening in her chair, and gathering the parchments in front of her as she cleared her throat.

“Thank you, Ms. Granger, for that display of knowledge. I think that concludes our questions.” She looked down both sides of the table to verify.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Hermione said softly, as she rose. She swept her eyes across the six faculty members, bowing her head. She left quickly, her heart racing.

“Well, obviously she’s perfect!” Keighly burst out the minute the door closed behind her, his brown eyes wide with amazement.

* * *

“Hermione? Are you home?” Hermione heard the voice coming from her fireplace in the next room. Hermione laid aside her book and moved to her parlor. It was Tuesday, four days since her faculty interview.

“I am,” she responded as she closed in on the fireplace. She saw McGonagall’s face forming.

“May I floo in?”

“Yes, of course.” Hermione stepped back, preparing to meet the headmistress. 

McGonagall flooed in, stepping out of the fireplace, and wiping soot off her black robe.

“Would you like some tea?” Hermione offered, moving towards the kitchen.

“Oh, yes please!”

Hermione quickly brewed the tea, setting out milk and sugar, unsure of how McGonagall preferred to take it. She handed a spoon to the older woman and then grabbed yellow teacups and saucers from the cabinet.

“These are lovely,” McGonagall said, admiring the tea set.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled. “They were a birthday present from Luna.”

“Oh, lovely Luna. Is she still traveling?”

“Yes, she’s keeping quite busy.”

Hermione joined McGonagall at the table, pouring the tea. They both sipped the hot drink for a few seconds. Hermione’s cup clinked against its saucer as she replaced it, looking at McGonagall expectantly. She felt calm.

“Well, my dear, the job is yours if you want it.”

Hermione burst into a huge grin, jumping up from the table abruptly and throwing her arms around McGonagall, catching the headmistress off guard.

“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry! I guess that’s not very appropriate now that you’re my boss!” Hermione’s face went crimson with embarrassment, her hands flying to cover her gaping mouth. “Please forgive me!” she cried out.

McGonagall only laughed. “Of course, of course.” She took a drink of her tea and swallowed, giving Hermione a curious look as the young woman returned to her seat.

“You do realize that Severus may always be looking over your shoulder? I will try to manage him, but you know…the man will always do what he wants.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I suppose he will. I will be fine. I’m not afraid of him.”

“No I daresay you handled his questions quite well. But afraid or not, he will most likely be frustrating to work with I suspect.”

The grin returned to Hermione’s face. “Well, good thing I’m stubborn.”

 

* * *

 

 **This song is my main inspiration for the story:**  
_It’s not your eyes,_ _It’s not what you say_  
_It’s not your laughter that gives you away_  
_You’re just lonely, you’ve been lonely, too long._  
_All your acting, Y_ _our thin disguise_  
_All your perfectly delivered lies,_ _They don’t fool me_  
_You’ve been lonely, too long._  
_Let me in the wall, you’ve built around_  
_And we can light a match and burn it down_  
_Let me hold your hand and dance ‘round and ‘round the flame_  
_In front of us,_ _Dust to Dust._  
_You’ve held your head up,_ _You’ve fought the fight_  
_You bear the scars,_ _You’ve done your time_  
_Listen to me,_ _You’ve been lonely, too long._  
_You’re like a mirror, reflecting me_  
_Takes one to know one, so take it from me_  
_You’ve been lonely, too long_  
_We’ve been lonely, too long._  
- _ **Dust to Dust**_ by The Civil Wars

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYOaLrcszfo>

 

 **A/N** : This is my 1st fanfic story (that I’ve seriously pursued). I started it 3 weeks ago & have been working on it daily. I have pieces of a lot of chapters already drafted. I’ve been doing a lot of research for it to make it plausible and work within JKR’s wonderfully crafted universe. I’m also trying to include some canonical elements (like dialogue & some events). I don’t have a beta, if anyone wants to volunteer (for grammar, characterization, plot issues) let me know and we can chat. Sources Used:  
Pottermore essays  
Harry Potter wikia  
Harry Potter Lexicon canon essays (very interesting/useful)  
Legacy.hp-lexicon.org  
Harry Potter Books & Movies  
Quote used in Trelawney’s prophecy is from the Prisoner of Azkaban  
For the 1st chapter I found the site _Hogwarts Is Here_ for the RPG potions courses they offer extremely useful

**Thank you for reading!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for your kind words, follows, & favorites!! I know the interview scene with Snape was a bit long/in depth. I JUST HAD to have Snape bring up her Exceeds Expectations in Herbology!! I actually had a lot of fun researching the questions & answers. I will tell you that almost all the questions I included are somewhat important to future chapters, so it wasn’t just me trying to be pretentious & show off. Plus it was fun to reference HBP and of course mention Lily (oil, haha). I want to figure out a good balance between using technical references for readers who know a lot about the HP universe, but without it getting too overwhelming. Something else I’m trying to currently work on: avoiding a “Mary-Sue” Hermione. No one wants a perfect Hermione and I know that with that interview scene she seems damn well close to it. I will work really hard on developing her weaknesses. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own or make any money off the Harry Potter franchise.

**Chapter 2:**

Snape stood in the shadows, his face filled with disgust. The _“happy trio”_ was back on Hogwarts grounds and he wanted to vomit.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked excitedly as they helped her move into the castle. _Why do they always have to look so smug?_ It didn’t matter if five years had passed, they still aggravated him. Ron, with his goofy expressions; Hermione, the annoying know-it-all, always so sure of herself; and Harry, everyone’s favorite hero, the boy he had pledged 17 years of his life to protect, who never really seemed to understand the extent of the sacrifices people made for him. _Obnoxious, naïve, arrogant little brats._

Snape knew he was being unfair in his judgments, but it was easy to extinguish that small feeling. He risked his life countless times to protect Harry and never got so much as a thank you in return. True, he _had_ verbally tormented and mocked Harry and his two friends for years. He couldn’t, and didn’t really want to, restrain himself when the younger Potter first arrived at Hogwarts. The years of his own abuse at the hands of the elder Potter, only to have his oppressor marry the one person Snape thought he would ever love, caused him to lash out. And Snape easily justified his bullying as a way to conceal his triple agent status.

But within time, Snape’s disdain for the three turned into something different. Something more like… _jealousy_ of their bond. It made him shudder to think that he even cared about something like that. But a reminder of his own past was all too telling of the longing he had for love and a bond, one he hadn’t found at home. To be accepted, to be _wanted_. Only briefly did he feel close with someone and that was in his friendship with Lily. But he had ruined it in a fit of anger. 

That longing was one of the things that drove him to become a Death Eater. But soon came the realization that Voldemort only used his followers for his own gain and the sense of belonging had only been a façade. His years of pining after Lily, the loneliness, and regret made him callous to others. Even his friendship with Dumbledore took long time to develop, strained for years after admitting to Dumbledore he was not only a Death Eater, but the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy. He always owed someone something as he took on the role of the spy. He accepted it as penance for his mistakes.

With Dumbledore gone, everyone carried on with their normal suspicion and dislike of Snape. Or they flat out ignored him, which Snape found preferable to the looks of fright or repugnance others gave him. The _ugly git, slimeball, oddball… Snivellus;_ the insults constantly replayed in his head.

After the battle, a massive hunt to arrest surviving Death Eaters and Snatchers took place. Many, like Bellatrix Lestrange, died during the battle, but some fled in the midst of chaos, a few still missing at large. Trials began. Snape’s name was on the list to be tried. He, however, was bedridden for months and unconscious a good amount of that time, suffering from delirium and poisoning, as he recuperated at St. Mungo’s. Once he was back on his feet he found he’d been exonerated. When he questioned it, McGonagall simply said Dumbledore had left some memories in his will that were privately shared with Shacklebolt, who then dismissed any charges of collusion. The same went for Lucius Malfoy, who immediately withdrew from society with his wife and son, scarred by the years of being used as mere pawns in a cause they had put their hope in for so long. What memories Dumbledore chose to leave, Snape did not know, but whatever it had been was kept quiet from the public, for which he was thankful.

McGonagall, as the new headmistress, reinstated him as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the post he had before the battle. He declined at first. If he was no longer needed by Dumbledore he didn’t see any reason to stay at Hogwarts, when he never really liked to teach in the first place. But she pleaded with him to stay, offering him the deputy headmaster position, increasing his salary, and in the end he reluctantly acquiesced, genuinely wanting to please the one person left who seemed to see some good in him.

But even with the dark lord gone, Snape still felt an inexplicable amount of anguish and irritability. He chalked it up to missing Lily, and he knew that that was a large part of it, but there was something else, _something_ deeply entrenched within him, that stirred up anger and sadness. A painful ache he desperately tried to ignore. _Will I ever be free of this misery?_ The question always on his mind.

Unable, and at times unwilling, to shed his sour attitude, he concluded that McGonagall would probably be his only friend for the rest of his life. Flitwick kept a respectful distance from him, noticeably nervous to be around the Slytherin professor. Vector, always a bit lost in her own head, continued in her usual manner. When she was engaged in reality Snape found her decent enough to be around. She didn’t seem to mind his abrasive personality. Sprout sent weary smiles his way whenever he needed to coordinate with her for certain potion ingredients, but other than she remained reserved around him, unusual for her when normally she was so friendly with everyone else.

Madam Pince hardly ever came out of the library and Snape was quite fine with avoiding her if he could. Dumbledore had unsuccessfully tried to play match maker between Pince and Snape when Snape first started teaching. The attempts only produced awkward moments for all three of them. Pomfrey fretted over him for the first year after the battle, keeping tabs on him to see how he was healing. He found her “motherly care” most annoying and began to ward her off with threatening looks. Trelawney eyed him cautiously, often murmuring incoherently around him. If he thought her behavior irksome in the past, the last few years had been unbearable. He went to great lengths to also avoid or intimidate her into leaving him alone. With Dumbledore gone and Harry off in London, Hagrid kept to himself in his hut. Occasionally he’d show up in the Great Hall for dinners, but he remained quiet, often sullen.

Snape hadn’t even bothered to get to know most of the faculty members hired after the battle. Snape tolerated Sebastian Keighly, the new History of Magic professor. He had been a Hufflepuff a few years ahead of Snape, although the two never interacted as students. Keighly’s non-assuming, relaxed personality made him easy to get along with and earned him the title of most popular faculty member, among the staff and students alike. Slughorn promptly retired after the battle, resuming his ritual of hiding out as he had done for so many years. His replacement as potions professor was an international wizard from the United States, who proved to be more of a fraud than anything. It seemed that the man had been more preoccupied with making himself famous back in the States through affiliation with Hogwarts and the names of Harry Potter and Voldemort, rather than actually teaching. The students were pretty much left to teach themselves. McGonagall gave him a few years to improve, but eventually he was sacked, thus bringing Hermione Granger back to Hogwarts. Snape had no intentions of befriending her, no matter the odd circumstances in their past.

* * *

“Oy, Hermione, I think your boxes broke my back,” Ron winced as he stretched dramatically, holding his hips.

“Oh you poor, fragile thing,” she said, patting his cheek. “Why didn’t you use a levitation charm then?” Her voice was sugary sweet and she pressed her tongue into her cheek repressing as smile.

“I’ve never liked that charm and you know it.”

She grabbed some books and began organizing them on one of the bookshelves. Ron sat down on her bed, watching her. “Is weird to be back?”

“It feels weird to me,” Harry cut in, his eyes sad. “It doesn’t feel the same without Dumbledore.”

Hermione turned and shot him a sympathetic look. “You’ll both have to come back now, to visit me,” she said softly.

“Hey, where do you want me to put this picture?” Harry said abruptly switching the subject. He held up a blue framed picture and looked around the room.

“Oh, put that riiiight by her bed so she can snog it at night when he’s not around,” Ron answered, his mouth twitching as he teased her.

“Shut up, Ron!” Hermione blushed, smacking him lightly across the chest as she passed by to grab the frame out of Harry’s hand. “It’ll look nice over here.” She set the picture of her and a young man embracing each other in a park on a smaller bookcase across the room.

“How’s it going to be with Snape?” Ron asked, his voice low and quiet. He watched her curiously.

“I’ll manage just fine.” She resumed unpacking books, her back to the guys.

“Yeah, but I wonder if he’s changed at all.”

“We’ve all changed since the war and losing Dumbledore. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t,” she responded, choosing her matter-of-fact tone and shrugging.

Ron frowned. “You always gave him more credit than he’s worth.”

Hermione turned sharply. “No, that’s not true. He is worth the credit. We _know_ he was extremely useful to the Order as a spy.” She faced the bookcase again, her hands moving quickly as she sorted the books. “And yes, I give him the benefit of the doubt. I think he deserves it. He’s had a complicated life.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry who remained silent, busying himself with unpacking Hermione’s various knickknacks.

“But you’re strangely protective of him. It was weird enough when you guys were found-“

“Ron! Drop it! He’s my colleague now and we’re all going to have to learn to get along. Or at least tolerate each other! That was years ago and I really hope we’ve all matured since then.”

Ron slumped his shoulders, pouting. “I still don’t trust him,” he muttered.

Hermione observed her friends’ glum faces. She could tell Harry was trying to remain neutral as Ron aired his grievances about Snape. She searched her mind for something to distract them.

“I’ve got an idea!” She said excitedly. “Let’s go see Hagrid!! How long has it been since you’ve seen him, Harry? Almost a year?”

The pessimism that filled the room quickly evaporated as both boys’ faces lit up at her suggestion.

“Of course! It’s been too long!!” Harry responded.

“Great. I’ll unpack the rest of this later. Maybe we can convince him to grab dinner with us at the Three Broomsticks,” Hermione grabbed a light pink cardigan and followed the boys out of the room.

“Hagrid!” They called out, Ron knocking on the door. “Hagrid!”

The door burst open and Hagrid nearly scooped them up in his arms. “Took yeh all long enough to come visit me!” Exchanging hugs, he ushered them all into his house.

“Come have dinner with us, Hagrid, we’re heading to the Three Broomsticks.”

“I’ve already been makin’ dinner here, join me! There’s enough porcupine meat to go aroun’ I got 3 o’ ‘em. Good deal.”

“Porcupine meat…grrreeeaaat,” Ron’s voice sounded scratchy, face aghast.

“Ohhh yes. The meat is incredibly tender. The goblins consider it a delicacy. And the skin is delicious. Mmmmm Mmm.” Hagrid turned the meat on the spit over the fire.

“Lovely,” Hermione said, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Ten galleons says that one of us gets pricked in the mouth by a quill he forgot to remove,” Ron whispered to Harry as Hermione stifled a laugh.

The three set the table as Hagrid served them the steaming meat. “I’ve got a loaf of bread we can butter an’ roasted potatoes too.” He eased onto a bench. “So tell me what’s new with yeh three.”

“Well you know Hermione’s teaching here now, yeah?” Harry said.

“I know, I heard! It’ll be nice to have yeh back.” Hermione smiled in response.

“I went and visited Charlie in Romania earlier this summer,” Ron said, slathering butter on his slice of rye bread. “It was loads of fun. I got to see a whole bunch of Ukrainian Ironbelly dragons hatch.”

“Ah good, slimy lil’ fellows aren’t they?” Ron nodded enthusiastically.

“And yeh, Harry?”

“I’m going to propose to Ginny.” He couldn’t contain his smile.

“What now? That’s good, very very good!” Hagrid slapped Harry on his back. “When?”

“We’re going to Paris in October. Well…she’s going with her Quidditch Team. But I’m gonna surprise her there.”

“Ahhh you sly boy!”

“She’s going to love it, she has no clue,” Hermione said, looking at her friend affectionately.

“Harry Potter gettin’ married. Well that’ll be quite a day.” Hagrid’s eyes were misty.

“But enough about us,” Harry said quickly. “Tell us how you’re doing?”

“Oh nothin’ new, really. It’s just different now, yeh know?” Hagrid started pushing around the food on his plate with his fork.

“Things are calm here, right? No major problems?”

“Nah, things are calm an’ everyone just doin’ the best they can. I reckon yeh know Snape’s still teachin’ here?” he addressed Hermione.

“Yes, he was at my interview.”

“Ah. Well I haven’t heard anything else about Trelawney’s visions,” he said cryptically as he stuffed a huge forkful of porcupine meat into his mouth.

“Wait…visions?” Hermione asked.  

“Rumor is, mmm,” he held up a finger as he finished chewing. “Rumor is, that Trelawney made another prophecy sometime before Voldemort showed up here,” his voice low and quiet. He paused again, picking at his teeth to remove small shreds of meat stuck in between. His tongue made smacking sounds against his teeth. “A lot of people think that’s how Dumbledore was able to let anyone know where yeh were that day,” he pointed at Hermione.

“Of course, I always wondered,” Hermione said faintly. “I…I didn’t know I had been part of a prophecy though.”

“Well, no one is sure. But if we hadn’t gotten to yeh guys in time yeh both woulda died that’s for sure.” He gave her a stern look. “But supposedly this other prophecy was abou’ more than just Voldemort.”

“Do you know anything else about it?” Harry asked.

“Mmmm no, just that you seem to have a part,” he raised his chin at Hermione, “and Snape too.”

Hermione shivered, a tingle inching down her spine. She definitely did not want to be a part of any prophecy. And although she found Trelawney just a smidge more credible after finding out about the prophecy involving Harry during their 5th year, she remained skeptical about Trelawney’s inconsistent skills.

“Hmm…well I should be getting back to the castle. I still have a lot of unpacking to do.” She stood, taking her plate to the counter, grateful for an excuse to leave.

“Goodbye Hagrid, I look forward to working with you.” She smiled warmly. “I’m going to turn in for the night,” she addressed Harry and Ron. “I’ll try to make it to London in a few weeks to see you all.”

“Sounds good, Hermione,” Harry said. Ron gave a wordless wave.

“She still won’t talk about that day,” Ron said quietly to Harry as they exited the hut an hour later. This was something Harry mulled over the last few years too.

“I know, but we can’t make her.”

“Maybe she’ll talk to Ginny?”

“Ginny’s tried too.”

It was starting to sprinkle rain on them as they walked.

“Hmm...what do you think about another Trelawney prophecy?”

“Yeah, Dumbledore said something to me about it right before he died.”

“Blimey, what’d he say?”

“He wouldn’t tell me anything about it, only that Snape needed to be saved. I just wonder if Dumbledore was the only one who knew about it.”

“Save Snape? I’m still thinking the man should be locked up in Azkaban!”

When Harry didn’t respond Ron tried again. “Should we try to sneak back into the Department of Mysteries?”

“And lose our jobs? I’m not so sure we’d get off that easy doing it a second time.”

“Well if Hermione’s part of that prophecy I feel like it’d be good to know.”

Harry remained quiet for another few minutes before grabbing Ron’s arm. “Come on, I’m tired of walking, let’s apparate,” and they disappeared.

* * *

Hermione looked around her private room satisfied. She’d spent the last two days bouncing back and forth between her classroom in the dungeons and private room in the Gryffindor tower, arranging and rearranging the furniture and décor to get it just right.

“I’m sorry it’s dreary down here,” McGonagall apologized when she had accompanied Hermione down to the potions classroom, unlocking Hermione’s office and the potions storeroom adjacent to the classroom. “I’m sure you’d prefer to have a classroom on another floor and not near the Slytherin dorms, but some of these ingredients need to be kept in a colder temperature…and, well why am I telling you that? You know that.” McGonagall observed the jars of insect and animal parts preserved in solution that lined the wall. She grabbed one reading the label, _diced lamb rectum,_ before quickly replacing it and wiping her hand on her dark robe. She looked nauseated as she turned back towards Hermione.

“I understand. I really don’t mind.”

“Well, good. And remember, try not to mind Snape. What is it that the Muggles say? His bark is worse than his bite?”

Hermione let out a laugh. It always amused her that non-Muggles were so fascinated by Muggle idioms and phrases. She remembered the summer months at the Burrow when Arthur would question her constantly about Muggle phrases.

“I’ll be sure to NEVER repeat that to Professor Snape. His bite might actually be worse after hearing that,” she mused.

Now, two days later, the students would be arriving soon. She could barely contain her excitement. Working for the Ministry had been fulfilling and enlightening, and she planned to return someday, but she felt such a huge pull towards Hogwarts. When a job opened up she knew she had to go for it or she’d always regret it.

She heard McGonagall’s voice outside her door. Hermione opened it, smiling, to see the headmistress and Vector walking arm and arm.

“Oh, Hermione, I wasn’t sure if you were in the Great Hall already. The students are arriving.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’ve lost track of time!” She ran to her closet grabbing a school robe and fetched her wand, tucking it into her pocket.

She caught up with the witches, falling into step beside them. “Should I go meet the students?” her voice hopeful.

“Well technically, as deputy headmaster, it’s Severus’ job to bring in the first years, but we don’t want to scare off the new students, so I’ve been sending Flitwick to do it,” McGonagall chuckled. “Maybe next year, once you’re more established, I’ll send you out.” Hermione nodded, hiding her disappointment.

“Septima, will you go reinforce the protection shield after all the students have arrived? I just remembered I need to go have a word with the house elves. Apparently we have a student who was transfigured into a bird by his older brother this summer and now he’s taken it upon himself to protest anyone who serves or eats anything that once had wings or feathers or a beak.” She sighed, staring off into the distance wistfully. “I shall miss mushroom sautéed pheasant the elves usually serve on Halloween this year.”

Hermione was left to enter the Great Hall alone. She caught her breath as she pushed open the large doors to find the room lit by hundreds of floating candles, an enchanted string quartet playing, the unmanned instruments swaying in the corner. _That’s a nice touch, McGonagall._ Mesmerized she walked to the front slowly, her eyes tearing up as she looked at the house flags along the walls. The bewitched ceiling showed a cloudless night, several constellations clearly visible.

Hermione’s eyes shifted to the front table. Other than the vacant headmistress chair, three faculty chairs were unoccupied; one between Snape and Sprout, the other two on either side of Trelawney. She would take Snape over Trelawney any day, glad to leave those other seats to Vector and Flitwick. She rushed up the small dais staircase and quickly slipped into the chair by Snape. Out of her periphery she could tell he was eyeing her, but she kept her head forward, her back rigid as she sat completely still. She wanted to savor this moment.

Of course Snape had to insert himself into her moment.

“Try not to look so haughty, Ms. Granger. You are neither the queen of England nor the Minister of Magic.”

She continued to ignore him, her eyes remaining focused on the doors of the Great Hall. She could hear the voices of students gathering on the other side of the doors.

“Come now, don’t tell me that after all this time you’ve _finally_ learned to keep your mouth shut?”

Hermione bristled at his second attempt to lure her into a quarrel. _Do NOT let him tempt you into a spat. Be present in this moment,_ she cautioned herself, trying to control her anger. 

Snape continued to bait her. “I _know_ you carefully tailored your words in your interview to appease me. Don’t think for a second that I believe you’ve truly learned to control your urges to be quick to respond and an insufferable know it all. You may fool Filius, Pomona, and Minerva, but you’ll never fool me.” His voice was menacingly low so that only she could hear him, malice dripping from his words.

She couldn’t restrain herself any longer. “For your information, people _CAN_ change and I would have expected you to have done so after your life was miraculously spared five years ago. But I guess _some_ people just aren’t meant to be redeemed.”

The words spilled out of her mouth before she really had time to think through what she was saying, playing right into Snape’s accusation. She fumed, practically sparking with magical energy. She had desperately hoped that Ron’s assessment of Snape wasn’t correct, but now it seemed likely she _had_ been too optimistic about Snape changing for the better. She was disappointed. She didn’t like being wrong and she certainly didn’t like it when Ron was right about anything. But even more to her surprise, she realized a lot of her disappointment stemmed from the fact that she actually _wanted_ to be on better terms with her former professor. She had hoped that at the very least they’d tolerate each other, maybe even become friends.

“I would have thought a near death experience would smack that pretentious attitude right out of you.” He clenched his jaw.

“ _Same_ ,” she snapped back. “It looks like we’re cut from the same cloth.” Neither looked at each other, but both had balled their fists in frustration, hers in her lap, gripping the folds of her robe; his on the table, where he rested his arms on either side of his plate. Their chests swelled and contracted to the same rhythm.

The Great Hall’s doors burst open and students entered; happy chatter filling the room. Hermione and Snape distractedly watching the students, each attempting to quell their anger and trying not to think about the day they almost died.

* * *

Hermione sank into bed by 8pm at the end of the first week of classes. She was exhausted. Her feet ached; her right arm was stiff from writing so many corrections on early assignments; and her mind never seemed to quit thinking of things to add to her “to-do” list. She’d woken up a couple of nights panicking, thinking she was late for classes or that she had forgotten to prep a lesson. Dark circles under her eyes already began appearing and no matter how much effort she put into trying to maintain a professional appearance, by the end of the day she ended up looking frazzled. She kept a notepad with her at all times so she could scribble down reminders for herself as she walked the hallways. She overheard a couple of older students snicker about her “crazy appearance” and “wild eyes.” And she could have sworn she heard someone say she looked as nutty as Trelawney.

She groaned, turning on her side and pulling the blankets up to her chin. She had so much more grading and organizing to do this weekend. _So much for being able to rest up._ She had given her 2nd years through advanced classes early diagnostic assessments to see how much damage she’d need to correct based on the failure of their former professor. To her dismay she realized she’d have to spend a significant amount of time going over a lot of the material they were already supposed to know. Her 1st years were a mix of anxious students (mostly Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw) and rambunctious, chatty students (Slytherin and Gryffindor). _This will prove to be a really interesting year to say the least._ The students’ needs had been far greater than she anticipated. _Were we so needy when we were in school? No wonder Snape always seemed so impatient._ The realization chilled her. _No, I can’t stoop as low as Snape. I can-I WILL be better._ _I can do this. A challenge is a good thing,_ she tried to reassure herself.

She heard laughter in the hallway. She hadn’t really intended to distance herself from everyone on the first Friday night of the school year. In fact she’d been pleased when Sprout invited her to join Keighly and herself for a glass of wine in faculty lounge after dinner. Relieving some of her stress with their cheerful personalities and alcohol actually seemed tempting. But she had snuck away from the dinner table early to quickly wash her face and crawl into bed. _Next week I’ll make more of an effort to be social,_ she reasoned. She thought of everyone back in London who’d expect to see her soon too. Ginny had hinted they were planning something for her birthday in a couple of weeks. Hermione mentally ran through the assignment schedules she’d made for the semester. Between all the essays, exams, and extra practicum sessions scheduled for her O.W.L. 5 th years and N.E.W.T. 7th years she didn’t know just how she’d be able to put aside her grading and lesson planning to spend time in London anytime soon. She began to understand why most professors remained single and didn’t seem to have a social life.

But even more than feeling fatigued and overwhelmed, a faint ache of loneliness preoccupied her mind tonight. It seemed to be a steady companion the last few years. She didn’t know why she felt this way; she had her friends, her parents, a boyfriend, a great career, and was constantly surrounded by people even if she didn’t want to be. And she _liked_ being alone for moderate amounts of time; it helped refresh her, especially after years of growing up at Hogwarts and hardly ever being able to find solitude. It angered her that she felt this way. _It’s completely irrational_. She hadn’t felt it growing up as an only child, or even for most of her teenage years. She tried to pinpoint when the feeling started and could only conclude that it began sometime after the battle. Most of the time she successfully ignored this nuisance of a feeling, but sometimes at night when she was most tired and had her guard down, it would remind her of its presence. She pushed it further and further from her mind, envisioning she was punching something intangible into submission. It made her feel better if she imagined bloody knuckles from her effort. She refused to feel weak.

And then there were the nightmares. There seemed to be three that took turns interrupting her sleep. The dreams about failing plagued her since her childhood years, occurring more as she aged. Her parents and professors insulting her intelligence; she, crumpled on the floor, sobbing from the weight of her inadequacy. The second type of dream started a few months before the battle and continued to haunt her afterwards. This one shifted and changed from dream to dream, except for certain specific parts. In these dreams, no matter what was going on or where it was taking place, she heard hissing, a loud cracking or snapping sound, often some type of Muggle song she knew playing in her head, and always ending with herself falling onto someone. Who? She didn’t know. The person remained faceless. Was she tripping? Getting pushed down? Or voluntarily trying to cover someone with her body? For years her mind sought to the answers to these questions, especially when they kept appearing after the battle. The last dream only started after the battle and was associated with the ache she tried to avoid when awake. In it, she was always in a dark pit, but the darkness surrounding her seemed to symbolize the emptiness she felt internally. Laying there in the pit, she gave into the hollow feeling. She didn’t fight against it. She had no will to try to get out of the situation. Defeated, she accepted her fate of being alone. She always woke up from this dream startled at her resignation. She wasn’t sure which of the three dreams were the worst. Sometimes she was afraid to sleep, anxious about what each of the dreams represented and scared of reliving the horror each one brought.

* * *

“Professor Granger!” McGonagall called out as Hermione passed her in the hallway. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you, I’m sorry I haven’t yet. I hope you don’t feel neglected.”

Hermione shook her head, her curls hitting her cheeks. “Not at all,” she lied.

“Why don’t you come by my office later this afternoon for some tea and we can chat.”

“I would like that,” she said appreciatively, before departing from the headmistress and taking another corridor towards the library.

A few hours later Hermione knocked softly on McGonagall’s office door. She heard a couple of voices and some shuffling. The door opened abruptly and she found herself standing toe to toe with someone much taller than her; someone who smelled like the woods-trees, leaves, and rainwater-with a hint of spices; someone who looked down his nose at her with dark, piercing eyes. She could feel the warmth of his body in such a close proximity.

“Oh, sorry,” she said weakly, taking a couple of steps back.

“Come in, come in!” Hermione heard McGonagall call out, but blocked by Snape she could not see McGonagall’s sly smile. Snape moved slowly around Hermione, keeping his eyes on her as he made the half circle around her to descend the staircase. She watched him cautiously. The encounter left her uneasy, in a way she couldn’t quite discern.

Taking a seat, Hermione noticed two used teacups already on McGonagall’s desk. “Oh, did I interrupt something? I didn’t know you were already busy.”

“No, no,” McGonagall pulled back one of the used cups and put it to the side of her desk. “Severus and I just always have tea on Saturdays after lunch. But one can never have too much tea, in my opinion. Blueberry Scone?”

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly, accepting the plate with the scone. She felt a tinge of jealousy that Snape met with McGonagall every week.

“So, tell me, how have your first few weeks been? I heard you’re reviewing past material and set up extra potion labs?”

“Yes. I gave early assessments and most of the students were not qualified for their current levels. But the reviews are going smoothly and I think within another month or two I should be able to jump into the regular material.”

“Oh wonderful. Any discipline issues? Trouble makers?”

“None so far.”

“Well you let me know. I wouldn’t be surprised for a young teacher like yourself to run into students who like to take advantage of new faculty members.”  
“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t ma’am me now. Really, please, Minerva will do just fine.” Hermione’s eyes widened. She didn’t think she could ever get used to calling her Minerva. “From what I’ve heard the students seem to like you alright.”

“Oh…that’s good. I assumed they all thought I was a lunatic.”

McGonagall chuckled. “Why would ever you think that?”

“Because I heard a couple of them say it.”

McGonagall laughed again. “Well, I have not heard that. And how do you feel you’re adjusting to the career change?”

“Umm…alright I think.” True, Hermione felt a little more competent and sane recently, but still felt alone and out of sorts.

McGonagall gave Hermione a skeptical look. “How are you doing personally?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione put on a smile.

“No…tell me the truth Ms. Granger.”

Hermione sighed. “I’ve just been…a little overwhelmed and insecure I guess. I…”

“Yes?” McGonagall gently prodded.

“I was just wondering if it was normal to feel this way?” Hermione looked down at her hands, tugging at her sleeves. She was on the verge of crying.

“Yes, it’s very much normal to feel like you do when you first start teaching. I cried myself to sleep a lot the first couple of months when I started.”

Hermione looked up in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes, _really_. Emotions don’t make you weak. And teaching is a lot of responsibility to take on, but I know that with time you’ll feel more at ease.”

Hermione nodded, blinking away her tears.

“How is your social life?”

Hermione snorted. “Non-existent at this point.”

McGonagall nodded. “I see…I’m going to relieve you of your duties next weekend, stop-“ she held up her hand when Hermione started to protest. “It’s ok. I’ve done this for other faculty members before and so did Dumbledore. Sometimes we all just need a break. I want you to be able to have some time to yourself and also away from here. I want you to be kind to yourself. As much as you pour yourself into your work you’ll never grow as a teacher if you’re constantly stressed. You’ll work yourself into a nervous breakdown and that won’t be good for the students. I have high hopes for you Hermione Granger and I need you strong for that, mentally and emotionally most of all. Now, no arguing with me about this. Drink the rest of your tea and finish your scone.”

Hermione obeyed, relief and gratitude easing her heart.

* * *

Snape stood by the Slytherin Quidditch team as their captain, Demetrius Scarborough, strained his voice to give a thunderous pep talk. Snape was so bored with all these stupid games and hated being forced to attend them. They were just a cruel reminder of his own lack of athleticism and James Potter, “ _Quidditch Extraordinaire and Celebrity.”_

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away his headache and trying to drown out Demetrius’ hoarse voice. He desperately needed to retire from all this. _I’ll do it this year, no matter what Minerva says,_ he told himself, a promise he’d made before.

Students milled about in the stands, the Quidditch pitch decorated in green and silver or red and gold. _Bloody hell_ , _Slytherin_ _house better win so I don’t have to witness Hermione’s smug face for days to come._ He actually hadn’t seen Hermione much since their confrontation the night the students arrived, other than passing in the hallways, during mealtimes, and when he almost plowed into her at McGonagall’s office. He knew she was avoiding him though; she never sat by him again, instead choosing seats with Sprout, Keighly, or Flitwick. He felt satisfied he intimidated her, but he did miss goading her. As much as he criticized her for it, he found her quick mind and sharp tongue amusing.

His eyes moved to the faculty seats, spotting Hermione. She threw head back laughing as a guy sitting next to spoke animatedly. Her curls were loose and flowing around her shoulders, a red and gold scarf sticking out from her black jacket. Hermione looked affectionately at the man beside her. _Wait, who is that?_ Snape peered harder. It was someone he’d seen before, but couldn’t quite place where or when. Then Hermione intertwined her arm with his and leaned her head on his shoulder. The two exchanged a few more words and then kissed.

Snape saw a blur of green and silver moving past him; his students were taking the field. But the shock of seeing Hermione kissing someone caught him off guard and it took him a few moments to remember he needed to get OFF the field.

He darted swiftly into the stands and maneuvered around all the smaller bodies of students chatting happily and chomping on concession snacks. It was the first Quidditch match of the year and excitement swelled.

Moving into the faculty stands he saw the only open seat was at the top. _Great, now I have to have Hermione and her boy toy right in my line of vision._ _Who is he anyway?_ He tried to avert his eyes and avoid the happy couple only two rows in front of him, but he found it hard to do so.

Gryffindor scored and the crowd roared. He saw Minerva, Hermione, and the mystery man on their feet, clapping wildly, Hermione hollering her approval. Snape dramatically rolled his eyes, his headache reminding him it was still there. The mystery man was pointing and speaking quickly. He seemed to be pointing out the movements of the players, the strategies of the teams. Back in their seats, Snape saw Hermione’s hand move to the man’s back, making circular motions against his brown coat. Snape watched, as if in a sudden trance. His own back began to feel warm and relaxed. _Solace._ This continued for awhile, but Snape lost track of time as he closed his eyes, letting this relaxed state wash over him.

He snapped back to attention as the crowd jumped to their feet, their yelling pounding in his ears. The warmth from his back was gone and he suddenly felt very lonely. _Get it together old man,_ he reprimanded himself. He tried to focus his eyes on the cause of their commotion. The snitch had been caught. On the field the Gryffindor team was running excitedly towards the 6 th year Seeker, Esmeralda Fragg. Snape saw his own players, mostly the younger ones, throwing their brooms on the ground and cursing. _Those idiots, I better get to them before they start a fight._ Groaning he pushed himself up from his seat, moving towards his students. At least he could get away from the young couple who just happened to be lip locked again, celebrating the Gryffindor victory in their own way.

* * *

Snape subdued his players, reminding them that calculated patience when seeking vengeance would be the better route than fist fights and curse words. Now, as his team packed up and headed off the field, he looked around to catch Hermione and McGonagall chatting happily. _Good the mystery man must have le-_ a swarm of students just to the left of the two women caught his eye. Many of them were holding out pieces of paper expectantly, but for what reason he couldn’t tell. He moved closer, searching for the reason the students’ excitement. Hermione and McGonagall didn’t seem to notice at all.

Then a divide in the cluster allowed Snape to get a better view of who was surrounded. _Hermione’s snogging partner!_ He was signing autographs! Girls were fawning over him and boys were sizing him up.

“I see you’ve reined your team in, Severus,” McGonagall’s voice had a hint of laughter in it. Snape hadn’t realized he had walked over to the two ladies as he watched the student spectacle.

“Who is the young celebrity?” he questioned slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man.

“Don’t you remember him? That’s Oliver Wood. Ms. Granger and he are dating.” McGonagall’s cheery voice grated on his nerves.

“Hmm. I don’t remember him,” he lied, turning back towards the ladies. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s he doing signing autographs?”

“Oh, Severus,” McGonagall burst out laughing like his question was the silliest thing she’d ever heard. Snape just stared at her, frowning.

“He plays Quidditch, for Puddlemere United. He’s been their keeper for the last few years.” Hermione answered watching Snape tentatively.

He grimaced, turning his eyes back to the charismatic man. “Well he’s certainly taking up a lot of our students’ time. Valuable _homework_ time.” Really, he shouldn’t have to remind these two women of academic priorities.

“Alright, alright, you’re quite right, Severus,” McGonagall weaved her way through students, her voice shrill as she strained to raise it. “Come, students, you must return to your dorms now. I’m sure Mr. Wood will be back soon to dazzle you all again.” She began ushering students off the field.

Oliver finished up a couple of autographs and made his way over to Snape and Hermione, his swagger subtle, but still aggravating to Snape.

“Wotcha Professor!” Oliver said grinning. Snape’s annoyance flared even more as the young man chose to greet him with such a casual greeting. Hermione caught the “intent to kill” look in Snape’s eyes, grabbing and squeezing Oliver’s arm. “Oliver and I should _really_ get going if we’re to make our dinner reservations in London on time.”

Oliver looked at her quizzically. “What? We’ve got loads of time!” He gave Snape a lopsided smile. “Your team did well, Professor Snape.”

“Apparently not well enough.”

“Well some of their technique could use some smoothing out and-“

“Oliver, _come on_! I need to change before we meet Harry and Ginny.” She glared at him, tugging at his sleeve before Oliver could say anything else to start an altercation with Snape, which would happen soon if the death glare Snape was giving Oliver was any indication.

“Er, well, I guess we are going then!” Oliver called out as Hermione pulled him away from the field. “Better luck to your team next time! Let me know if you want me to spare a couple of tips, but not too many. I can’t have my loyalties to Gryffindor stray too much ahhhhgghhh!” His voice strained as he called out, ending with his surprised reaction as Hermione pinched him.  

Snape stood on the field for another few minutes, waiting for them to get a safe distance away from him. _Oh the boy wants to give my team tips? What a pompous bastard. How fitting for Granger._ He scoffed. Finally deciding to head inside because the afternoon sunlight annoyed him he made extra effort to avoid the Gryffindor section of the castle, from which he could hear shouts of celebration, as he made his way to the dungeons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N #2-There you have it! Hermione has a boyfriend! Next chapter may be shorter than the 1st two. It’ll cover some more Hermione-Snape encounters, Hermione & Oliver, Harry & the gang (ha It’s Always Sunny just came to my mind). The reason I didn’t take the canon storyline from HBP is because I needed Snape to be more redeemable than if he had killed Dumbledore (even if Dumbledore asked him to). I figured that wouldn’t go over well in a post-battle world if Snape survived. Take note-writing this story will be a slow process. I can’t make any promises about updating, like “every weekend,” as much as I wish I could. I am a pretty slow writer & editor. I tend to write and then take a break from each section for a day or two before coming back and really assessing “Is this what they would say?” “Is this something they’d actually do?” If I rush it I’m pretty sure it’ll all fall apart terribly. Lastly, I’m American so I’m not as aware of British phrases & customs. I’m trying really hard to research certain things to get it right, but if any Brits want to correct me as I go along, please do so I can make necessary changes! 
> 
> Again, if anyone would like to beta please message me, I could use a fresh pair of eyes to bounce around ideas with!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Chapter 3 Preview: Harry listens to Every Little Thing She Does is Magic by The Police :) :) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m not going to lie, I danced around to "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" on repeat for a good 20 minutes as I wrote this chapter.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Harry Potter empire. If I did, Snape definitely WOULDN’T smell like “old shoes and bitterness.” Yikes.

 

The airplane bounced as its wheels hit the concrete, as if testing whether the ground would really accept its 75 ton weight. The plane’s deceleration pushed Harry forward in his seat. “We’re now arriving at the Charles de Gaulle airport, current time is 10:13 am, we thank you for flying with us and we hope you had a pleasant flight,” the captain’s cheery voice could be heard over the intercom system as the plane took a slow turn on the tarmac towards the terminal. Harry grabbed his ipod and flipped through the musical selection. He needed to calm his nerves. He chose _Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic_ by The Police, hitting the repeat option. He leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes. He’d wait until the other passengers were off, he didn’t mind having this time to think through his next 24 hours.

Harry felt weird using so much Muggle technology, from the airplane to the ipod and cell phone, but it really did serve his purpose the best. He wished Ron and Hermione were there to calm him, but he knew needed to do this on his own. He mentally reviewed Ginny’s schedule of which he had memorized in the last couple of weeks. The all-women’s team had a luncheon to attend, which would give him time to check into the same hotel and shower. Then the team was headed out on a sightseeing tour since it was their last day in France following the Quidditch tournament. Harry was thankful for Ginny’s discreet teammate, Lola, for helping him plan the proposal. He’d made dinner reservations at Lasserre and would prolong Ginny’s stay in Paris just a couple more days as the rest of the team headed back to London. Everything was set and prepped, now if he could only control his clammy hands and erratic heartbeat.

Looking around he saw the last stragglers heading to the front of the plane. He took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing his bag from the overhead compartment. He nodded and smiled at the flight attendants standing at the door and walked out into the red carpeted airport. The Police song started for the 5th time. Despite the singer’s anxiety at asking his love to marry him, Harry felt pretty confident in his timing. It couldn’t have happened much sooner; neither he, nor Ginny, were in a place to really pursue marriage in the previous years. They had talked about it a lot, especially more recently, and were on the same page. For them, marriage meant starting a family. They had already been living together for four years, dating for six, so marriage wouldn’t really change anything about their situation in that way.

They had weathered a war against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They had been separated sporadically, often without warning as Harry went off with Dumbledore to hunt Horcruxes. Ginny’s last year at Hogwarts, as Harry began his Auror career, had tested them emotionally more than anything else. They remained, without a doubt, committed to each other, but recovering from the stress of the war on their own in many ways. Years later, as he and Ginny talked about that year after the battle, they both recognized that while it had been incredibly tough, the separation made them stronger individually, which in turn, helped fortify their relationship and learn how to support each other better.

Harry had many side effects from his childhood and teen years. Growing up at the Dursley’s toughened him, but also fostered an incredible amount of anger that Harry harbored even before he came into contact with Voldemort. The connection with Voldemort increased his moody predisposition, causing extreme physical anguish on top of everything else. With Voldemort gone, he had found some relief, but the stress of living with that for years lingered. He suffered from countless nightmares where he was being tortured or worse, torturing others. He constantly found himself looking over his shoulder, feeling paranoid, which did not bode well for his Auror career. Luckily for him, he and Ron were usually partnered together and Ron understood how to talk Harry through the worst of the anxiety attacks while at work; and the severity of Harry’s trauma went undocumented at the Ministry. Hermione’s conscience condemned the Ministry for taking Harry as an Auror without a full psychological evaluation. She had felt conflicted, wanting to support her friends in their prospective careers, but knowing the ways he suffered and remaining uncertain about his mental health in such a stressful job.

Ginny had agreed with Hermione, but knew that Harry would do whatever he damn well pleased whether or not anyone agreed. She decided on two tactics to help Harry work through his past. She would comfort him physically, as often as possible, hoping to help alleviate some of his stress that way; and she would get him to write or talk about his thoughts and feelings as much as possible, even if he resisted. The last thing Ginny wanted was for him to close up and let his stress and anguish fester. She coaxed him to write often that year she remained at Hogwarts. She drew him out with subtle questions and sharing her own feelings. Her vulnerability, in turn, softened Harry.

Ginny had her own inner demons to grapple with. Her first year at Hogwarts she’d been terrorized by a Horcrux, Tom Riddle’s diary. If Harry really stopped to think about how harrowing that must have been for Ginny as an 11 year old, he was quite amazed that she didn’t collapse from anxiety and timidity. No, Ginny was resilient. Ginny persisted. She had never been, and would never be, the damsel in distress. She had to prove herself to her family, constantly in her brothers’ shadows as the youngest child, constantly overprotected as the only girl. Her brothers wouldn’t let her play Quidditch with them, telling her she was “too young,” she’d “get hurt,” she “won’t be able to fly as well as any of them.” She grit her teeth and bore through the remarks. She pushed and pushed herself to excel at flying, at spells, academically, and to win over the hearts of her classmates. She garnered respect for herself everywhere she went. In Dumbledore’s Army, she excelled, quickly demonstrating a steady grasp on the difficult magic Harry taught his fellow students. She easily produced a Patronus charm and then guided other students, younger and older, in casting theirs. She took down Draco Malfoy and didn’t hesitate to join Harry and the others in the Department of Mysteries during her 4th year. She became a confident leader. It was her quiet, steadfast love and friendship that helped fuel Harry in his final showdown with Voldemort.

During the battle she didn’t distract Harry; didn’t beg him to stay with her, to protect her, to run away with her and leave the whole mess behind for others to deal with. No, she squeezed his hand and gave him a knowing look. She knew what he needed to do. She knew one or both of them could die. But she stood by him, encouraging him to follow his path, wherever it may lead. She endured Bellatrix’s sadistic torturing for a few minutes before Molly had been able to find her. She watched loved ones die; horrified to think Harry had also died when Hagrid appeared carrying him in his arms. In the aftermath of it all, her brothers expected her to be a pillar of strength for their grieving mother.

Most importantly, Ginny gently reminded Harry that he wasn’t completely alone in having his mind invaded by Voldemort; she, too, had heard, had _talked,_ to Voldemort. With as much devotion Ron and Hermione provided Harry, only Ginny could really empathize and understand that mental and emotional violation. She seemed to read Harry like a book. He appreciated that he never had to explain himself to her. But she always held him accountable, not letting him get away with “the boy who lived” excuse for his mood swings. And so they grew closer, consoling each other as they grieved and pursued the healing process.

And now Harry was ready to move forward with her.

* * *

Hermione snuck a glance at a shirtless Oliver who held a cup of coffee, staring out the window. She admired his body as the morning sunlight filtered in through the window, lighting him up almost angelically. Before he noticed she was awake, she pushed her face back into the feathered pillow, eager for more sleep. Oliver kept her out late the night before, taking her dancing with some of his teammates and their dates. It didn’t matter if they returned home after 1 am, he had other things his mind than sleep, hungry for her body.

Oliver had an intense sexual appetite, to say the least. And Hermione had discovered she did as well. She had never slept with Viktor Krum, although they had certainly fooled around. But Hermione had maintained that she wasn’t ready to have sex the year he visited Hogwarts. It wasn’t until after leaving Hogwarts that Hermione began to experiment more. Before Oliver there was a Muggle and a Wizard. The Muggle, Thomas Leery, grew up down the street from her. They had been playmates as children, before her Hogwarts days, and it was the summer she was 20 when they were reunited, both home visiting their families in July. Days of flirting and casually hanging out preceded their physical activities. Not a virgin himself, he had been a patient lover, willing to bear through some awkward moments the first couple of times as Hermione acclimated to the experience, guiding her through it. The summer vacation ended and so did their time together as Hermione reentered the Wizard world.

The second guy was a foreign Wizard, visiting from Spain for a year while interning for the International Magical Office of Law. As Kinsley Shacklebolt’s assistant, Hermione had been tasked with throwing a soiree for the Ministry interns. Alejandro Garcia Perez caught her eyes from across the room. He was dashingly good looking, his thick black hair brushed and gelled perfectly in place. He took her on a few dates, bringing her flowers and chocolates, even writing her a poem once. They slept together, but decided to remain non-exclusive; she knew he was involved with a couple of other girls. She always made him use a condom though, much to his confusion, since the Muggle product wasn’t as common in the Wizard world.

It had been Ginny that reintroduced Hermione and Oliver. England’s Quidditch players would frequently get together for parties, press junkets, or to merely hook up. At one such party Harry and Ginny had dragged Hermione along, insisting that she was becoming too much of a workaholic and social hermit. Oliver had been polite and attentive to Hermione most of the evening, putting her at ease and making her laugh. He pursued her for a date for two months before she finally agreed. Now, as Hermione buried her head back into the pillow, wishing for more sleep, the couple was just about a month out from their first year anniversary.

This was the second time McGonagall granted her leave for the weekend since school began. While she was grateful, she worried the elder Gryffindor was showing her too much favoritism, giving her too much leeway. She resolved to start spending more uninterrupted time at Hogwarts on the weekends.

She felt the bed move as Oliver crawled back in moving towards her. She giggled as he pushed his forehead near hers on the pillow. “Oh good morning,” he purred, rolling her to her back and climbing over to straddle her with his legs. He gave her an ornery look before leaning down to kiss her deeply.

“Mmmm! Oliver,” she pushed him away lightly. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“Ah, but your breath is fine, love.”

“But you know it’s a pet peeve of mine.” She kicked out legs out from underneath his sheets and rolled out of bed, her body bare except for her pink panties. She grabbed a t-shirt from the dresser, yanked it down over her head, her hair an absolute mess of tangles. In the bathroom she grabbed a vial of pinkish liquid out of her makeup bag. She used the cap to measure a small amount, two drops, and swallowed it, replacing the vial labeled _Contraceptive Potion_ back into her bag. She pulled out a plastic container containing small little pills and counted them. _Ok, I have enough of this to last a few more weeks_. She took extra precautions when it came to birth control, making sure she always had both Wizard and Muggle contraception on hand.  

“Hermione!!” Oliver beckoned and she quickly scrubbed her teeth with a toothbrush, observing her face in the mirror, turning from side to side. She found him laying across the bed, trying to pose seductively. Laughing she crawled back up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes?”

“We need at least one more good shag before you leave.”

“Hmmm…ok, but only if you agree to make me breakfast afterwards.”

“Done.”

“Aaaannnd play a game with me.”

“What?! Another Muggle game?”

“Mmmhmm. Scrabble.” She began kissing his neck.

“Is that the spelling one?”

“Yup!”

He threw his head back on the bed. “You and your Muggle games,” he teased. She bent down to kiss him. “Well, this better be a good and thorough shag.”

“Oh it will be,” she promised as she tugged the t-shirt up over her head and threw it on the floor.

* * *

Harry walked across the street, his hands jammed inside the pockets of his black slacks. He wore a black sports jacket over a white shirt and a silver silk tie. Gold and red leaves drifted lazily through the air, swirling around the street as bikes and cars rushed by. Harry inhaled the autumn air; the afternoon sun lent its warmth to the pedestrians.

He saw the all-female team in the distance, posing for pictures in front of the Eifel Tower. He hung back, watching them. Ginny was in the center, saying something that made all the girls laugh, her arms wrapped around two teammates. The girls exchanged affectionate smiles in between switching up their poses. He heard another burst of laughter. Again, some of the girls were looking at Ginny. Harry smiled to himself, shuffling his feet. His Ginny, the social butterfly, congenial and lively. He loved her more than he could really even understand.

The girls broke from their pose and began walking away. Harry took a deep breath in, mustering his courage, and began walking towards the girls. Lola, knowing where he planned on meeting them, nodded at him and pointed to alert a couple of the other girls. He saw one of them nudge Ginny. She looked around, her red hair glistening in the sun. “Harry,” she called out, an amused questioning look on her face. Lola began to whisper to the other girls and motioning them away, leaving Ginny alone as Harry approached.

“Ginny,” he said calmly, his smile widening.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny said breathlessly.

He grabbed her hands, pressing his forehead to hers. “I wanted to see you.” They stood in the park, the Eifel Tower looming over them.

“What? I’m coming home tomorrow,” she laughed.

“No you’re not. We’re staying for another couple of days.”

“Harry, what’s going on?” the smile fading from her face. Harry saw Lola move around, snapping photos of them with the Eifel Tower behind them. He looked up at it, his eyes squinting as he continued to hold Ginny’s hands, rubbing them soothingly with his thumbs. She followed his glance, staring at the monument silently for a few seconds before searching his face again.

“Harry?”

“Ginny…you’re my best friend. When I think about all the ways you’ve been there for me…I…I didn’t appreciate you enough when we were younger. I was a fool, but I’m so glad I got my act together eventually. You are the most stunning, strong, thoughtful person I know. I love you for so many reasons. Your charisma, the way you’re both gentle and fierce at the same time, your courage and intelligence, your compassion and generosity, our mutual love for Quidditch,” he broke into a goofy grin.

“I know everyone says this, but I really can’t imagine my life without you. You’re the color in my world.”

Then Harry Potter bent down on one knee in front of the love of his life and pulled a ring from his pocket. Sightseers and her team members began clapping and cheering. Ginny’s hands flew to her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Ginny, will you marry me?” His green eyes glistened with tears of his own. They conveyed all of the hope and optimism he had ever felt. She nodded, choking up slightly. “Yes,” her voice was low and raw with emotion. “Yes, I will.”

Harry rose up, slipping the ring on her finger and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him in a passionate embrace. She flung her arms around his neck as they kissed unabashedly in public, euphoria radiating between them.

When they finally broke away from their kiss his eyes grew somber. “Listen, it might be too soon and I get that. We can wait a couple more years for the wedding if you want.” He rushed through these words, feeling nervous again, despite the fact she already said yes to marrying him.

“Harry,” her voice assertive as she put her hand on his chest to settle him. Her touch always seemed to do that. “I know what I’m about.” Her resolve firmly established.

He nodded and leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

Hermione observed the deep creases across Oliver’s forehead as he frowned, concentrating on the tiny squares in front of him. “Uhh…this is really all I got.” He laid out one of his pieces to the end of an I to spell IT. Hermione inwardly grimaced on his behalf as she added the meager points to his already pathetic score. She gave him an apologetic look as she took all seven of her pieces and spelled TERRIBLE from the T he’d just laid down. He groaned, rolling his head back. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Reaching into the black withdrawal bag she realized there were only 3 pieces left.

“Can you go? I can go one more time,” her eyes danced with triumph as she assessed her new pieces.

He studied the board for what seemed like forever to Hermione. She even tried to check her watch discreetly, trying to make sure she got back to Hogwarts with enough time to finish some grading before dinner.

“I don’t see any way that I can.” His brown eyes met hers, pleading for the game to finally end.

Out of the three letters she had left she place a U and N off one of the R’s in TERRIBLE to spell RUN. She had 1 letter left. She tallied up the points. “307 to 101,” she announced, her tone formal. She was trying to restrain herself, but she loved to win. It didn’t help that Oliver was just as competitive. Their constant need to compete nauseated their friends.

He sucked in a breath, and held out his hand to congratulate her, smiling stiffly. She came around the table, sitting on his lap and kissing his temple. “Thank you for playing with me,” she said sincerely, smoothing his hair. She turned back to begin clearing away the game, but quickly got distracted. “Oh look! You could have played. At least two more words!” She rearranged his pieces to show him. He looked utterly defeated and embarrassed.

“You best me every time at this game! I know that’s why you like it because you know I’ll whip you at pretty much everything else!”

“Ohhh feeling cocky are we?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Mmmmhmmmm.” He began to kiss her ear and neck.

“Oliver, I have to get going.”

“Ok.” He continued kissing her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Really! I need to go!” She snaked her way out of his arms to retrieve her things.

 “Alright, my love. Make sure you keep those little buggers in line!”

* * *

Based on her confrontation with Snape at dinner that first night of the school year Hermione knew ignoring him would probably only make his wrath worse, so she decided she would be as amicable as possible, hoping to wear down the animosity and tension over time. Fortunately she hadn’t seen much of him in the first few weeks. Hermione found herself sitting between Sprout and Keighly pretty regularly at mealtimes and she enjoyed their company immensely. Sprout added kindness to Hermione’s day, Keighly added humor.

About a week after the first Quidditch match, Hermione looked up from her work, which was currently spread all across a library table, to see Snape sitting with a 5th year on the other side of the room, the two deep in conversation. Taking the opportunity, she observed his mannerisms as he talked with the student. She recognized the student: Matilda Beckett, a Muggle born, who was excelling quite nicely in Potions. Snape seemed to be advising her, which confused Hermione, since Matilda was a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. The girl smiled warmly at him as he spoke. He pointed to several lines on a sheet of parchment as she nodded.

Hermione noted his relaxed posture. In her experiences he had always looked so uptight and guarded, but here, in the library with Matilda, he looked at ease. When Matilda spoke he was attentive, but even more so, his face was gentle. He even gave her a small smile at one point.

Hermione lowered her eyes back to her book. _“I wish he would have looked at me like that when I was a student.”_ The thought made her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t deny it. Her need for approval was pretty much the dominating force in her life. Everyone always assumed she was just trying to show off, but it wasn’t that. She desperately craved positive affirmation from those in authority and especially those who were hardest to please. Snape had denied her this approval time and time again, and as frustrating as it had been, it made her yearn for his high esteem all the more.

And now he still seemed to hate her. She couldn’t figure him out. He was the enigma that constantly eluded her. In the last five years she hadn’t thought about him all that much. There were times she wondered how he was coping since the battle. And occasionally she tried to figure out just how she instinctively knew to go to him that day Voldemort showed up at Hogwarts. But now, since coming back to Hogwarts, his presence hardly left her mind, much to her discomfort at times.  

She started to gather her things. She couldn’t witness him like this with Matilda anymore. The jealousy bothered her too much. She should be happy that at least one student outside Slytherin broke through his severity. As she slung her back over her shoulder and walked away Snape turned his head slightly to watch her leave.

* * *

Neville plopped down on the sofa, kicking his legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table. “Bloody hell, I’m tired.” He looked at Ron, who sat in an oversized armchair, leaning forward, his brows furrowed in concentration as he stared at a chess board.

“Hmm,” Ron barely acknowledged his roommate. Ron tapped a rook to move forward.

“Are you really playing against yourself?” Neville asked incredulously.

“Practicing. I’ve charmed the other pieces to play like a simulation. Got a big tournament next week.”

Neville shook his head in amusement. He took the next few minutes of silence to rest his head against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. He just got off a 10 hour Auror shift. While the thrill of the job enticed him at first, after five years of it he definitely didn’t love being an Auror as much as Harry or Ron. In fact he found himself wanting a far more mundane career, something “boring” the other guys might call it. He didn’t even have the energy to make himself dinner tonight, even though his stomach grumbled threateningly. “We really need some house elves around here,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah, Hermione definitely wouldn’t kick our asses for that.” Neville smiled sleepily at Ron’s comment.

Ron grunted, finishing the game. “Are you still on for the double date on Saturday?”

“What?” Neville’s voice sounded more like a croak, his eyes heavy as he struggled to open them.

“With Romilda Vane and Hannah Abbott?”

“Oh, shite. I can’t, I registered for a Herbologist Conference in Glasgow this weekend.”

“What?! Neville!” Ron cried out, throwing his head back in irritation. “We set this date up weeks ago because it was the one weekend neither of us to work!”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. I signed up for this conference since I couldn’t go to the last one because of work.”

“Is it really that important?”

“Yes! Saffron Thistle is presenting.”

“And who is he?”

“ _SHE_ is the most renowned researcher when it comes to chestnut trees. She’s been testing the leaves and the nuts with other ingredients to see what kinds of uses it might have.”

“And?”

“Well, that’s what I’m going to find out on Saturday. She must have found something if she’s the keynote speaker.”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. He’d never understand Neville’s love for Herbology. “Fine. I’ll see if I can get Seamus to go with me. Romilda was pretty clear that she wouldn’t go unless there was a date for Hannah too.” Ron groaned. “I’ve been trying _forever_ to get Romilda to go out with me.”

“Sorry, mate.” Neville didn’t really feel sorry at all. He found Hannah boring and he was much too excited about the conference.

“You really need to get out more.”

“I get out,” Neville mumbled defensively. “I just went out with you and Harry and Ginny a few weeks ago.”

“That didn’t really count. You need to meet more people. Do things with _other_ people.”

“Meh.”

Neville could feel Ron’s eyes on him, observing him, and he didn’t like the attention. “She’ll be back eventually, no use in moping around while she’s gone though.”

Neville averted his eyes, unwilling to participate in where Ron was taking this discussion. “Do we have any more of that meatloaf your mom made for us?” Neville changed the subject. Luckily, Ron was always ready to discuss food.

* * *

Hermione approached Matilda after class a few days after observing her with Snape in the library. “Hi Matilda, I was wondering how your semester was going so far?”

“It’s going well, Professor Granger,” Matilda shot a big smile Hermione’s way as she gathered up her books.

“You’ve started your O.W.L. and career advising yes? I was wondering if you planned to continue taking Potions after this year…I hope you do, you’ve got quite a talent for the subject,” Hermione quickly added when Matilda gave her a worried look.

Matilda’s smile returned. “Oh yes! I was actually just getting some counsel from Professor Snape this weekend.” _Bingo_ , thought Hermione smugly.

“Oh yeah?” Hermione said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, my two favorite classes are Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was asking him about an Auror career.”

“Oh…well I have 3 friends who are Aurors, I could see if they could give you some advice too if you’d like.”

“That would be amazing!” Matilda’s face grew serious. “I know Professor Snape’s not technically supposed to be advising me and I do plan on going to Professor Sprout, but he is the most knowledge in this subject area and he offered to help,” she said rather apologetically, her eyes pleading Hermione to understand.

“It’s ok, we’re all here to help, even if we’re not the head of your house. I’m glad Professor Snape is willing to help you. I hope you feel like you can come to me too.” Hermione had been sitting on pins and needles waiting for students to come to her for advising.

“Thanks! Well…I better get going to Charms class!” Hermione nodded and waved her away.

 _So Snape has seemed to change, at least a little bit._ Hermione didn’t think she’d ever see the day he’d help a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, but it seemed she had been wrong about him. _But why does he hide under that mask of acrimony?_

* * *

“Our first Hogsmeade trip will be next weekend and I’ve collected the parents’ permission slips. It looks like everything is in order, the businesses know we’ll be coming Saturday,” McGonagall scanned the parchment she held out in front of her as she stood in the staffroom facing the teachers. “The last item on the agenda is to assign chaperones for the trip. I’ve chosen Hermione and Severus.”

Snape sat across the room from Hermione, but gauged her reaction with a quick look out of his periphery. For a split second she looked concerned, then quickly resumed an impassive face. _Of course she doesn’t want to be around you. You’re a old, greasy git,_ he condemned himself. _She’d probably rather chaperone with Keighly. He’d be much more fun._ Snape balled his right hand into a tight fist, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palms, a habit he’d formed years ago whenever he felt agitated. 

“Are there any questions or concerns?” McGonagall looked around the room at the rest of the faculty members. She smiled brightly when no one spoke up. “Excellent. I believe everything will go smoothly next week and I hope _everyone_ enjoys their time in Hogsmeade.” Snape shot her an exasperated look. “You all are dismissed.”

Snape waited until everyone else meandered out of the staffroom. “Granger, really?”

McGonagall feigned an innocent look. “Are you two in a dispute?”

He huffed. “No. Can it be anybody else?”

“No. Everyone else is on duty or giving detentions. Or traveling. Pomona is attending the Herbology conference in Glasgow.”

“Fine.”

“Really, Severus, you’ve been acting most unusual lately.” They exited the staffroom, heading down a deserted hall.

“Have I?”

“Well…more agitated than I’ve seen you in a long time, I daresay.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

“Severus?” She stopped walking, looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to be nice every once and a while.”

“Hmpf.”

* * *

Snape rounded a corner in Hogsmeade catching sight of Hermione, who, at the moment, looked exceptionally cross. He backed up a couple of steps so he wouldn’t be as noticeable and observed her. She stood defensive, her arms crossed over her chest, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her face pale. She was arguing with Oliver. Snape strained to hear them. Luckily for him, her voice was raised in that high pitched manner she used when upset.

“I’m sorry, but I have responsibilities here. This is my job!”

“I don’t understand why I can’t just hang around for the day. The kids will be fine. They don’t want you hovering around them anyway.”

“Because it’s not a free day for me to go socializing.”

“But we had a date planned for today!”

“Honestly, Minerva has been giving me a lot of flexibility and freedom when it comes to time off and I feel like I’ve been neglecting some of my duties. We should be thankful for the time we do have together, but I need to be more focused at Hogwarts. We knew this was going to be tough when I took the job.”

Snape heard Oliver sigh. “I just didn’t think today would be an issue.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go off gallivanting with you.”

“Can’t I just stay for awhile?”  
“Oliver…”

“Fine, ok. I got it,” his voice angry. “Oliver!” she called as he walked away. “Please, I’m sorry. It’s just hard for me to balance everything. I’m trying.”

He walked back towards her, stroking her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I just miss you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, hugging her closely. Hermione returned his hug but remained silent.

“Owl me when you can.” Hermione nodded in response and watched Oliver walk away again. The first snow of the year fell swiftly from the sky and Hermione clutched at her coat, shivering. She walked down the street and into Tomes and Scrolls. Snape decided to follow her.

* * *

“I see you have a type.” Snape fell into step beside her as she walked down the row of tall bookshelves of Tomes and Scrolls.

“Excuse me?” she turned towards him sharply, her voice and face clearly annoyed. She had been expecting him to make some kind of comment since the Quiddtich game a couple of weeks ago.

“Athletic. Cocky. Doltish. Krum. Woods. I’m a bit surprised though, I would have pegged you going for someone a bit…more… _intellectually stimulating_.” The end of his comment oozed out of his mouth like honey, slowly and smoothly.

A thought dashed through her mind, so quick and fleeting she barely recognized it in the moment. _He remembers I dated Krum. Why would he remember that?_

But it was his other comments that took precedence in her mind. Her blood boiled over.

He looked at her sardonically, satisfied to see he had riled her up. Her chest was rising and falling dramatically, like a pigeon puffing its chest out.

“Just because someone is athletic doesn’t mean they’re not intellectual.” Guilt crept up within her though as she remembered making those same judgments about athletes for a long time. She recalled the boring relationship she had with Viktor Krum.   
“Oliver was a fine student,” she continued, waving away her memories. “And we have plenty to talk about.” She stuck out her chin in what he assumed to be defiance. Snape’s deep laugh only furthered her frustration.

“What is so funny?”

“You look ridiculous when you’re indignant, with your chin raised like that, trying to look so proud, but you just look silly.” Now she looked ready to murder him. “Come, Granger, calm yourself. We’re in public,” he dropped his voice, leaning his head close to hers, his eyes darting around like they were sharing a scandalous moment. Before he realized it he had reached to grasp her hand, which she swatted away.  

“I will hex you,” she warned. He laughed again. She watched him, her face relaxing somewhat, her eyes curious. “Wow, I’ve never seen you laugh before. I didn’t think you were capable of any emotion other than bitterness.”

His quieted down, his dark eyes assessing her. She shifted and looked away, uncomfortable under his gaze, remembering he was a gifted Legilimens.

“You’d be surprised at what you don’t know.” His voice was quiet and sincere. She wondered if her comment actually hurt his feelings. She pushed it from her mind and turned on her heel to resume her book browsing elsewhere. For awhile she remained alone, roaming up and down a couple of aisles, pulling a few books that looked interesting to her.

Reading the back cover of the newest addition to her arms she ran into someone who deliberately blocked her path. The books pushed into her stomach as his sturdy body stopped her. _“What?!”_ her voice exasperated. A couple of people down the aisle looked up at them with curious glances. She looked up at him herself, her eyes imploring him to get out of her way and leave her alone.

He simply held out a book to her. “I think you might like this one, if you haven’t already read it.”

She took the book, giving him a skeptical look at his sudden change in behavior. _The Nightshade Guide to Necromancy._ “Oh I haven’t read this one, but I’ve been meaning to,” she looked up, her expression softened slightly. “Thank you.”

He nodded brusquely before walking away. _Enigma_.

* * *

She purchased her books, deciding she needed some tea. At the counter in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop Hermione ordered a tea with honey and lemon and reached into her coin purse. An arm shot out in front of her, holding the necessary coins to pay for her drink. “Also, a large Golden Tip Assam black tea, please,” Hermione heard the rich, deep voice behind her. Madam Puddifoot nodded, taking the coins from his hand for Hermione’s drink and ringing up the second drink. Snape moved from behind to stand next to her at the counter.

“You didn’t need to pay for me.”

“You were holding up the line,” he said flatly.

She looked behind her to find the place nearly empty except for two female students sitting in the corner. “Uh huh, sure.” A smile played at her lips. Madam Puddifoot returned with the drinks and bid them good day. They simultaneously turned away and held the cups to their lips.

“Should we begin rounding up the students?”

“Not yet, they’ve been well behaved today, we’ll let them stay awhile longer.” She nodded thoughtfully.

They left the shop and began walking through the snow covered street. It had stopped snowing and the sun even threatened to peek out through the gray clouds. They sipped in silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing their destination as they walked.

“How are you adjusting to teaching?” His voice finally broke the silence.

Hermione hesitated. She didn’t want to admit to him how overwhelmed, insecure, and unprepared she’d felt…still felt at times. “It’s been alright.” She put on a brave face.

“Are my Slytherins giving you any trouble?”

It touched her that he cared to ask. “No, they’re not. In fact I haven’t had many discipline issues. Minor things. I think the older students are just grateful to have someone actually teaching them now. And the younger ones are still a bit nervous. That’ll wear off I’m sure. The school has gotta have a few Weasley twin type students just biding their time.”

He nodded, a small smile betraying his stony face, staring at the ground as they continued to walk aimlessly. The sun successfully parted the clouds, providing some warmth, and the snow crunched under their boots. Hermione looked around as some of the students milled about in front of her, exploring the shops. She heard laughter from down the road; some of the boys had started a snowball fight. She smiled nostalgically, remember the time Harry, hidden under his invisibility cloak, had clobbered Draco and his cronies with snowballs. She glanced quickly at Snape, his hair hung down around his face as he continued to stare at the ground. It surprised her that she felt remarkably comfortable with him at that moment, given all the tension of their last few encounters. She snuck another quick look at him. _He seems pensive._ She desperately wanted to know what preoccupied his mind. She’d give just about anything to be able to read his mind. She sipped her tea, the liquid warming and soothing her throat, thinking of what she could say or ask to perhaps prompt him to open up to her.

Just as he looked like he was about to say something, a snowball whizzed past them, grazing Hermione’s shoulder. “Well…I think that just about concludes our trip,” he assessed the boys who watched them approach with frightened eyes.

“That’ll be enough. We’re leaving, gather your classmates,” he barked the order, sweeping to the other side of the street, his walk resuming its authoritative swagger. Hermione sighed, swallowing her disappointment that she didn’t get to have a more significant conversation with him. She followed his lead, making the rounds in the shops to collect the students and escort them back to Hogwarts.

 

* * *

**A/N #2** -Well, there you have it! There’s going to be a wedding! Actually there’s going to be 2 weddings featured in this story!! I’ll let each of you imagine what Ginny’s engagement ring looks like! Saffron=A spice extracted from the Saffron Crocus flower. The book Snape suggests for Hermione is one that appears on her bookshelf in _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child._

 

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aENX1Sf3fgQ>

 

**Thank you for reading and for the favorites and follows!! I appreciate you all so much! Please leave me a review if you feel so inclined!**

 

 **Chapter 4 Preview** :

He stared at her, his face void of emotion.

“You served a purpose, multiple purposes, for so long,” she continued, “and had so many people asking things of you, that you didn’t really think about life beyond the battle. You didn’t plan for anything after.”

She paused. He avoided her eyes now.

“Did you _want_ to die?” Her voice low and tentative.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I had to wrestle pretty hard with one of these scenes, writing and rewriting it. As much as I’d like to blame my characters for not cooperating with me, it’s more like I wasn’t cooperating with them. Silly me to forget that it’s their story to tell, after all ;) Also, after much deliberation I'm moving this story to an M-rating, rather than T. I think it'll still be a little in between both those ratings, at least in the early chapters, but I would rather be on the safe side. 
> 
> Disclaimer-If I owned the Harry Potter franchise I would have kept Teddy Lupin (played by Luke Newberry, I’m a fan of his other work!) in the epilogue scene in DH2 movie.

Panting, Snape made his way through the woods, trying to navigate his way out of the branches that barred him in like a prison. Cold rain pelted against his face and he could see his breath with each exhale. He ran, but it felt more like he was trying to tread through water; his legs were heavy, the air pushed against him, resisting his movements.

Finally he made his way out of the looming trees and into a clearing, tall grass covered a field and hill. He looked around. He couldn’t see anyone. But he desperately needed to find them. His wet hair clung to his face and neck, his ears ringing as the pressure increase inside his head pressed against his skull. He began walking up the hill to gain a better view of his surroundings, still feeling sluggish. Atop the hill he searched again. _Where are they?!_ Fear swelled within him. _They couldn’t have gotten too far, I was right behind them_.

Then a pain shot through him, so intense he fell to the ground, shaking. The pain prevented him from calling out for help, though he felt like if he could audibly make a sound it would result in a terrifying shriek more than anything coherent. The pain seemed to ricochet off his muscles, moving throughout his whole body. Just as he began drifting out of consciousness he saw someone move over him. Long hair tickled his face and he reached up to stroke it. An eerie green mist surrounded the mysterious person. S _urely this is a delusion,_ he thought, but now he felt calm and… _happy._ Little white orbs began sparking, intermixed with the green mist. Reaching out to wave his hand through the mist, it swirled around his flesh, but he felt nothing tangible. The person leaned in closer to his face. The cold rain devoured their bodies, but within himself he felt a warm, tingling sensation. Whoever leaned over him paused for a few seconds and then leaned closer…and closer…until he was almost positive their lips would meet at any moment.

Snape sat up with a start, panting once again. He stared into the dark room, his heart pulsating wildly; his bare, scarred chest exposed to the cool night air of the dungeons. He was at Hogwarts, safe in his bed. He reached to his bedside table and grabbed the glass of water sitting there, gulping it down quickly. The dream had been one of the most vivid he’d ever had; all five of his senses flared in response. A rich vanilla scent lingered in his memory. He was dry, yet felt drenched. Returning the now empty glass to the nightstand he laid back against his pillows, his body weary from the experience. _It’s just a dream_ , he tried to make himself naively believe.

* * *

Ginny rolled over to face Harry. She smoothed his hair across his forehead, brushing her lips lightly across his skin and scar. He didn’t stir. Turning onto her back she held up her left hand and wiggled with delight, trying to contain an excited squeal, as she admired her ring. Being somewhat of a tomboy most of her life, she hadn’t ever felt particularly girly in comparison to other girls she knew. But getting engaged had pleasantly surprised her and she felt giddy about the prospect of showing off the gem Harry chose and wearing an elegant wedding dress. Her mother had gone absolutely berserk when they returned from Paris to break the news to her family, pulling out wedding catalogues and advertisements for caterers and venues that Ginny never knew she collected. Molly had rushed about, shouting out ideas, insisting that they were going to do something different for Ginny’s wedding than dragging out their “old circus tent” as she referred to it. “It’s not everyday your only daughter gets married!” she had gushed. Ginny and Harry could barely get a word in after they made the announcement.

Ginny looked back at her fiancé, soaking up the sight of him sleeping peacefully. The majority of his nightmares about Voldemort and the Death Eaters finally started subsiding, their supply of Dreamless Draught waned and they had decided not to replenish the potion. Slipping out of bed she showered and applied an instant drying charm to her hair. She jogged the stairs of their flat, throwing her hair into a pony tail, and headed down the street to a café. It was her turn to pick up breakfast.

Minutes later she flooed into the fireplace at 12 Grimmauld Place. “Sorry I’m late,” she said her hands full with the cup holder and a pastry box. She gave a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before offering the cups to Tonks. “Coffee?”

“Mmmm thanks!” Tonks said appreciatively, taking a cup and a large gulp before bending to pick up a toy train from the floor. “Be careful where you step, Teddy seems to have used the sitting room to build a replica of the entire British railway system this mornin’.”

Ginny looked around. “Where’s Hermione?”

“Oh, _she’s_ the late one! Late night with Oliver, maybe?” Tonks winked at Ginny.

“Grading is more like it,” Ginny answered surveying the toys spread all over the floor.

“Teddy!! Please come help mummy pick up your toys! Kreacher is _not_ responsible for them! Ginny’s here, by the way!”

Five-year-old Teddy burst into the room a few seconds later, energy erupting from him. “Ginneeeeeeeee!!” He cried happily, running straight into her to wrap his arms around her waist. She wobbled, struggling to hold her balance as she continued to hold the other two cups and pastries. “Oh, here, lemme take those,” Tonks said, freeing up Ginny’s hands to reach down to pick up Teddy. The boy wrapped his arms around her neck, snuggling his face to her cheek affectionately. “You’re getting so big! I won’t be able to pick you up for much longer!” Ginny exclaimed, dramatically.

“I’ll pick you up then!”

Ginny laughed, pulling him higher on her hip. “Hey, I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it a chocolate donut?” His large brown eyes intense and serious.

“Ok, I have TWO surprises for you, then.” She pushed her nose against his as he grinned with anticipation. He was missing two top teeth.

“Would you like it if I married your uncle Harry?”

“Married?!” He scrunched up his face, his nose wrinkling, and tucked his chin into his neck. Tonks laughed at her son’s reaction.

“Yes, married. And we’ll have kids you can play with. Would you like that?”

“I guess, but only if I can boss them around like Kreacher bosses me around!”

“Very well, Teddy, you can boss them around, but don’t tell them I said you could,” she put on a serious face.

“Boss who around?” Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.

“Harry’s and my future children.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose similarly to the way Teddy had. Teddy’s smile disappeared from his face as he regarded Hermione with a solemn expression.

“Hi Teddy,” she said lightly. “Hi,” his stoic reply.

“Why the long face, buddy?” his mother said, rubbing his back as he remained in Ginny’s arms. He shrugged, looking around the room at his toys on the floor. “Lately it seems like he’s becoming shy, even around people we know,” Tonks said apologetically. He wiggled to get down, running to his train station he’d built with his blocks.

Hermione mimicked his reactions by shrugging. “He’s always been a bit guarded around me. Dunno why.”

“Come, let’s eat, I’m starving!” The three women hovered around the box of pastries.

“Teddy, here’s your donut, go sit at the table with it and make sure you thank Ginny for it.” “Thanks!!” he hollered, his small fingers gripping the donut as he eagerly shoved it in his mouth. Chocolate soon lined the flesh around his lips as he licked the remaining sugar off his fingers. Tonks wiped his fingers with her napkin while the three women chatted happily, sharing updates on their lives.

While Hermione had heard Harry’s proposal story, Tonks hadn’t and asked Ginny to go through all the details. Tonks told them about taking Teddy on vacation to the beach in August. “Oh and my mother started homeschooling him,” she tussled his hair as he played on the floor near her legs. “I looked at a couple of Muggle primary schools for him, but I just think being a Metamorphamagus will get him in too much trouble or picked on. He won’t learn how to control it well until he’s about 10 or 11, if not older.”

“Is he starting to understand the things he can do?” Hermione kept her voice low, not wanting to be heard by Teddy.

“Not too much yet. It’s still mostly his hair that changes, so unless he’s in front of a mirror he has no idea. I did catch his nose change once. Into a little cat nose, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! One night during dinner and then it was gone a few minutes later, just like that. But I think he’ll start recognizing the changes soon.”

Hermione mostly talked about her classes and students. When Tonks asked about Oliver, Ginny noticed the change in Hermione’s body language. Her face became less expressive, her body slightly stiffened, and she only shared the basic details in answering Tonks’ questions. _Curious,_ Ginny noted. By this point in her life Ginny had grown accustomed and finely tuned to observing her friends’ behaviors and analyzing them. Hardly anything went unnoticed Ginny anymore. 

“Listen, just let me know when you and Harry want this place back, really it won’t be a problem at all to find somewhere else for Teddy and I,” Tonks switched subjects, addressing Ginny now. 

“Oh well, I don’t think Harry has any desire to claim it, at least not any time soon. It reminds him too much of losing Sirius. He’s come a long way, but that’s still something that gets to him pretty bad. And I know he wants to help take care of you and Teddy any way he can. But I’ll let him know.”

“I just thought you’d want more room once the kiddos come along,” Tonks winked at Ginny, nudging her.

Hermione surveyed the room, remember all the Order meetings the house once held, the bedrooms that held overnight guests. “Ginny! How many kids do you and Harry plan on having?” She didn’t quite understand why she was so shocked. She assumed they’d have kids, but the idea that it might happen _soon_ seemed a bit too rushed. Ginny was only 22! And Hermione couldn’t understand why Ginny would want a large family after coming from one with so many siblings crammed into the Burrow.

Ginny laughed at her friend’s surprise. “A litter of children, of course!” Hermione’s eyes bulged, sending the other two women into another fit of laughter. Hermione, however, found nothing humorous in Ginny’s words.  
“Oh, Hermione, I’m kidding. Certainly not a litter! Probably not as many as mum and dad had, but maybe like 3 or 4.”

“Soon?!”

Ginny shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But you’re so young! And your career!” Hermione felt absolutely horrified. She knew she was being completely rude, but she couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth.

“Hermione, stop!” Ginny raised her voice in anger. Teddy looked up at the women, startled by their sudden change in volume. “Not everybody has to fit into your lifestyle or share your views. A couple of my teammates have kids. They took a season off and helped train the others, then came back and it wasn’t a problem. And I’m not even sure I want to play Quidditch for a long time. I’d like to try other things. But I’ve always wanted to start a family and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Tonks intervened, trying to control the conversation before Ginny and Hermione could continue the fight any longer. “I think the important thing to remember is that, whatever you and Harry decide together will be worth it, whether you wait for a while or start a family right away. Everyone just needs to do what’s best for them,” her voice was calm and gentle as she tried to ease the tension.

They sat in silence for a good minute as emotions cooled. Hermione suddenly felt very isolated. “I need to get back to the school,” she stood up abruptly, refusing to make eye contact with either of the other two women, and grabbed her purse.

“Hermione-“ Ginny started, her eyes exposing her hurt.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, her face raging with emotions as she watched Hermione step into the fireplace to floo back to Hogwarts.

“She’s just so…judgmental sometimes! I don’t understand why she can’t just be happy for us.”

“I think she _is_ happy for you, but I think it still surprises her when not everyone comes to the same conclusions as she does or is as career oriented as she is. Listen, there will always be outside pressures and opinions. But ultimately you can’t let those get to you, even if they’re the opinions of friends and family who mean well. Take it from me, it feels good to rebel.” At that last comment her hair transformed from its rich, dark brown color into the bright fuchsia pink she used to don so often before Teddy was born.

Teddy looked at her in amazement, his face lit up with excitement. “Mum!! Do green now!!” Her hair transformed into a lime green color making Teddy giggle with delight. Unknowingly his hair began to change too, into a bright turquoise.

Ginny nodded in deep thought. “Were people upset when you and Remus got married?”

“Oh sweet order of the phoenix, yes. Your mum was one of them.”

“What’d they say?”

“We got married too fast…we didn’t really think through our decision…we were too impulsive…we wouldn’t work out. When they found out we were pregnant just weeks after getting married they were _really_ concerned.” Tonks shrugged. “We weren’t necessarily trying to get pregnant so I guess some of their concerns about that were valid. I mean, it was in the middle of a bloody war. But we were just so wrapped up in trying to pretend we could have a normal love life…”

Tonks paused, watching Teddy play across the room. When she caught sight of Ginny studying her with a deep frown she reached out to squeeze the young woman’s hand reassuringly. “I’m _glad_ I got pregnant when I did. I will always have a very real, _tangible_ reminder of Remus. Just be careful, that’s my advice. Think about it, talk about it. If you guys are ready for a baby, go for it. If you are hesitant, wait. None of us can make that decision for you. But you know, just because you-know-who is gone doesn’t mean we’re free of evil.”

Ginny nodded, “And Harry tends to run headfirst into adventure.”

“Right.”

Ginny glanced at Tonks curiously, which wasn’t lost on Tonks. “What?” she asked flatly, pretending to be annoyed with Ginny, but Ginny knew better than to believe Tonks’ façade.

“You’re doing better, right?”

“ _Yeeesss_. You’re not the only person to check up on me, you know.”

“We check up on you because we care.”

Tonks sighed and rolled her eyes. “Do I look better?” Ginny nodded, smiling.

“I still have bad days. But the worst of it has gone away.” Tonks had a dark look in her eyes now as she stared at nothing in particular. “The days where I couldn’t get out of bed. When I didn’t care if I lived at all and _he_ was in the next room,” she motioned at Teddy, still playing across the room, oblivious to their conversation. Tears welled up in her eyes, her mouth quivering. “I had to grow up so fast with a baby and without Remus. He needed me and I felt absolutely wretched that I couldn’t seem to get over my depression. I felt like a terrible mother. I started losing my hair, did you know that?” Ginny shook her head, tears of her own shinning in her eyes as she empathized with her friend. “Clumps,” Tonks gestured with her hand. “If my mother hadn’t intervened I don’t know what would have happened…” her voice trailed off, she was unwilling to continue her line of thought.

This time Ginny reached for her hand, clasping Tonks’ cold flesh between both of her own.

“Just be careful. I _know_ you know, but just be careful.” Tonks’ voice barely a whisper now.

* * *

Oliver let out a low grunt, as he gave one final thrust inside Hermione, his release quaking through his body. Collapsing on top of her, he slowly withdrew himself, sweating profusely. Regaining his breath he tried to kiss her, but she only returned his attempt with a small peck of her own. She suddenly felt very claustrophobic. She squirmed under him, hoping he would get the clue and roll off of her. When he complied she promptly shot up out of her bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt.

“Water?”

“Thanks.” She reentered the bed and they both sat drinking for a couple of minutes. Setting his glass down on her nightstand he reached for her empty one, removing it from her hands. He tried to pull her in an embrace, but she struggled against his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit…hot. Does it feel stuffy in here to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, I guess it’s just me then. I might just read for a bit and then go to sleep.”

“Ok, love. Mind if I stay the night?”

Hermione looked put off by his suggestion, biting her bottom lip. “I’m not sure McGonagall would be happy with that.”

“Ok, well I’ll just stay until you go to sleep.” Hermione reluctantly nodded, leaning down to the floor to pick up a book that had been carelessly knocked off her bed earlier that evening. She flipped through the pages trying to find her place as Oliver leaned against her arm sleepily.

“I’m really happy for Harry and Ginny.”

“Mmmhmm,” she murmured, not really wanting to discuss them right then, her tiff with Ginny still fresh in her mind.

“What do you think about marriage?”

Hermione shrugged. “It seems like a logical thing to do at a certain point for most people,” her voice was almost robotic as she said this. She flipped the pages loudly, hoping Oliver would get the point that she didn’t want to _talk_ , she wanted to _read_.

Instead he just laughed. “You’re always so logical about everything.” She rolled her eyes. _Like that’s hardly a bad thing._

“Would you want to get married and have kids someday?” There was a hint of hopefulness in his tone.

“Oh not you too!” Hermione groaned, finally giving up on reading and slamming her book shut.

“What?”

“Why is everyone wanting to discuss marriage and babies all of a sudden!?”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know everyone else was trying to talk to you about it,” he muttered.

“Oliver, we’ve only been dating for a year!”

“I’m not proposing, Hermione, I’m just bringing it up.” He had moved away from her by this point, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know what I really think about it. I honestly haven’t put that much thought into it, like ever. I’ve always been so focused on school and my career.”

“I know.” He picked at her blankets.

“And other than you, I haven’t really ever been in a serious relationship. So…I just…” _Blimey, I hate expressing my feelings,_ “I guess I’d be open to it, eventually. It’s just not a priority right now.”

He nodded silently, clenching his jaw.

_Why is he so hurt by this? Was he really considering marriage for us?_

“I better get going. I know you’re eager to get to sleep.” Hermione felt guilty as he began dressing. She didn’t want to continue this conversation, but she knew that at some point they should address it again, especially if he was upset. She moved off the bed and gathered up his coat and shoes for him. “Here,” she presented them like a peace offering.  
“Thanks,” his voice glum.

As he zipped up his coat, she grabbed his arms, making him focus on her. “Oliver, please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not. But it’s late and you have to teach in the morning so I should go.” Even though he kissed her on top of the head, she remained unconvinced. He quickly grabbed some floo powder from the shelf above her fireplace, throwing it in and stating his destination. She shivered, feeling cold now, standing alone in her room.

* * *

Snape just happened to be making his rounds. Sure it was after midnight and he didn’t _technically_ need to be roaming the hallways anymore, but old habits died hard and he had lived with this routine for years. So, he justified to no one but himself, it was only natural that he be in the corridor near _her_ room at 1 in the morning. A soft light could be seen under her door. Did she have trouble sleeping like he did? He imagined her sitting up in bed, a book propped up, her cat snuggled up against her. He shook his head, he knew far too much about her. He saw shadows moving around in her room, emphasis on the plural. _Oliver._ An inexplicable wave of fury washed over him. He clenched his right hand, but didn’t understand the root of his anger.

_She’s breaking the rules._

_You’re just jealous._

_Jealous of what? That’s ridiculous._

_Jealous of her relationship. Jealous that she has someone warm next to her, comforting her, loving her. A companion._

_Jealous that it isn’t you._

_Fuck no! That’s fucking ridiculous!_

The thoughts torpedoed through his mind and collided with each other causing another explosion of wrath. A need for a violent release of emotions overwhelmed him. He practically flew down the corridor; his sudden rush of movements woke a few of the portraits, he could hear their whispers as they gossiped about him. The staircases bent to his will and within minutes he was in his room. He hurled the pillows and blankets on his bed across the room, punching into the mattress a few times. He wanted to throw heavier objects, to break things, to send his armchair crashing against the wall. But the Slytherin Dorms were too close; he feared he’d wake up his students if he wasn’t careful.

His anger began subsiding as he bent over his bed.

_I hate her._

_No, you just hate how she makes you feel._

Once again his thoughts began to contest each other.

 _I’m going insane._ He shot down the thoughts about Hermione, choosing to dwell on the state of his mental stability instead.

* * *

Snape cornered her in the hallway outside the Potions classroom the next morning. Hermione was congregating with a few of her 7th years when he swooped over, his robes billowing around him. He certainly knew how to make an entrance as he pushed his way into their small circle, his eyes threatening.

“Professor Granger, a word.”

The students backed away, picking up on the strain in his voice. They shot curious glances back at Hermione and Snape as they walked away.

“Late night? Tired I presume?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows knotted together in both confusion and anger at his prying questions.

“Are you not hosting guests in your room into the early morning hours…on a school night?”

“Are you spying on me?”

“Merely on my rounds.” He observed his finger nails as if bored with the conversation.

“I can’t believe the nerve you have to interrupt me when I’m with my students and corner me about this. I don’t need to justify myself to you, I’m not a student anymore,” she tried to get around him to walk away, but he moved in front of her, his body impeding her.

“Don’t get all huffy with me, Ms. Granger. You’re in the wrong and you should be more responsible.”

“How am I in the wrong?” she cried out.

“What if a student required your attention in the middle of the night and you’re locked away _fucking_? What kind of example does that set for the students? Would your precious boyfriend hide under your bed like you’re teenagers hiding from your parents?”

“Oh please,” she held up a hand, trying to move around him again. “It was only a couple of times and he never stays for the whole night. It’s not like I’m parading him around at night.”

“Well it’s distracting.”

“How is it distracting? And _who_ is it distracting? No one else has complained! No one else has even noticed! Maybe it’s because everyone else has _a life_ and doesn’t need to spy on me in the middle of the night!”

He sneered at her, donning his usual mask of contempt. He leaned his head close to hers, forcing her to press against the wall. She grimaced and turned her face, averting her eyes. Gulping, she trembled as she felt his robe brush against hers. “I would advise you, as deputy headmaster, to take more precautions.” As he pulled away she finally looked into his eyes, giving him a hard stare. For a brief minute their eyes locked in an intense struggle of wills. Then he turned, his robe brushing against her again, and stormed off, leaving her to regain the breath she’d been holding.

* * *

“Severus, what in Merlin’s name is going on?” McGonagall appeared at his door that evening after dinner.

“I’m just as confused as you are since you neglected to give any details about your questioning and accusatory tone.” Except Snape did have an inkling where this conversation was going.

“I saw Ms. Granger in the hallway earlier; she was in tears, incredibly upset. I had to coax it out of her, she didn’t willingly give you up as her assaulter. Don’t give me that look, Severus-“  
“Assaulter? My, that’s harsh. Please try to control your theatrics, Minerva. Did I berate her? Yes. Assault her? Certainly not.”

“Well she wouldn’t tell me everything. Why do you insist on provoking her?”

“I wasn’t provoking her for sport. I simply remarked that it may be less than appropriate for her to be housing gentlemen callers here at Hogwarts, especially on school nights. I should think that you would agree with me.” He moved back to his armchair and resumed his seat, crossing one leg over the other.

“Were you lurking around her room?”

“Certainly not.” _Liar,_ his thoughts betrayed him. “On duty.” He knew he was being petty about this.

“ _Merlin_ , Severus, I certainly don’t have time to handle trifles between teachers. I don’t see Hermione’s behavior causing any major problems.”

“She’s not a good example for the students.” He said flatly.

“Really? I haven’t had any other complaints about her. I’ve never seen anything inappropriate within view of the students.”

“He stays in her room. I wasn’t aware other professors were inviting overnight guests.”

“Oh Severus, don’t tell me that you still assume our once young Hermione isn’t engaged in…normal activities for someone in their 20s and in a serious relationship,” she struggled to figure out what to say and he smirked at her discomfort. “As long as she’s private about it, I don’t see a problem,” she continued after a brief pause.

“You’re bending the rules, Minerva.”

“I was married as a young teacher.”

“And you lived off the school grounds, need I remind you?”

McGonagall sighed. “I hardly think I need to intervene. If he’s only in her room and they’re not inappropriate in front of the students I don’t see the issue.”

“Minerva,” his stern voice reverberated off the walls. “You’ve grown quite soft and lax in the last few years. Dumbledore never condoned outside guests, at least on school nights, and there were more restrictions on apparating and flooing-”  
“He did that because of the circumstances-“ she stiffened in defense.

“And what if students need her in the middle of the night?” This was sound logic after all.

McGonagall sighed again. “I hate it when you’re right,” she snapped. He smirked.

“Honestly, I think she is a good role model for our young female students. She’s in a healthy relationship. He seems to be treating her well. She’s successful in both a personal relationship and in her career. And not to mention, Oliver is wonderful with the students when he’s around to interact with them. He’s always been a very inspirational, charismatic leader. They adore him.”

Snape rolled his eyes, disgusted by McGonagall’s appraisal. 

“I’ll talk to her, but I want to know what’s really going on, Severus?” Minerva’s voice grew gentle, her eyes searching his face for any indication of the underlying cause to explain his behavior towards Hermione. She still stood over him, near his fireplace.

“I have no idea what you mean?” His dark eyes met hers, calculating, always calculating.

“Your moods…I haven’t seen you this irritated or in flux in years. Not since you were serving Voldemort.”

He grimaced at the mention of his former master. _Be honest with your only friend_ , a faint voice within him urged, betraying his need for privacy.

“I don’t…know,” he hated the words coming out of his mouth. He hated talking about himself, his feelings. “I feel…restless.” He talked so slowly it was as if he was learning to talk for the first time. “I don’t have _a life_ ,” he chose to use the phrase Hermione had spat at him earlier that day. It cut through him, more than he cared to admit.

McGonagall nodded, watching him struggle through his words with a sad expression. When she spoke again her voice was low and serious. “You didn’t think you would survive the battle, did you?”

He stared at her, his face void of emotion.

“You served a purpose, multiple purposes for so long,” she continued, “and had so many people asking things of you, that you didn’t really think about life beyond the battle. You didn’t plan for anything after.”

She paused. He avoided her eyes now.

“Did you _want_ to die?” Her voice low and tentative.

He threw up the Occlumency shields around his mind more out of habit than anything, knowing that McGonagall wasn’t a skilled Legilimens. 

“Whether I wanted to or not, I didn’t think I _would_ survive, as you have guessed correctly.”

“Are you mad that you were saved that day? That _she_ saved you?”

“I _don’t_ want to talk about it,” he snapped, his voice rumbling like low thunder.

McGonagall sighed, looking around his room. She desperately wanted to get him to talk about that day, but knew a losing battle when she saw one. Instead, she decided to share with him one of the ideas she’d been mulling over for the last few weeks.

“Would a change in positions be of interest to you?”

 

* * *

 

 **A/N #2-** No one has complained about my pacing so I’m going to assume you’re all fine with it. There WILL be action/adventure in future chapters (I promise! The prophecy, remember?) But I really dislike it when SS/HG stories are rushed. It needs to be a slow burn! Fret not! We’re getting closer to a different dynamic between the two.

 

 **Chapter 5 Teaser** : Flitwick did a double take at them as he entered the room. Vector caught Snape’s eye a few seats down from him and raised an eyebrow before turning away to resume her conversation with the Astronomy professor. Trelawney didn’t even try to be discreet about watching Hermione and Snape. She had pushed her chair back to get a better view and turned her whole body to face them as she nibbled on a piece of toast like a squirrel.

 

**Thank you for reading, subscribing/bookmarking, and the kudos! You all are wonderful! Please leave me a review, I’d love to hear from you and be able to interact with you more!**

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I used Emma Watson’s BatB hair, makeup, and dress (minus the little cloak thing) from the Shanghai premiere as inspiration for her look in the first scene of this chapter. If anyone wants to know who I envision when I write Keighly, it’s a 1990s Colin Firth that comes to mind.  
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP, nor do I make any money off of this story.

_Something you said made me lose it again…There’s no room for love, no time for understanding. Sometimes I start a fight just to see if you care._  
_It’s not getting better. It’s not getting easier. I never thought I’d become so cold inside._  
_Day after day, we’re wishing our lives would change…_  
_I never thought it’d be easy, not hard like this._ - **“Tough Love” by Sailor & I**

*Two of the lines from the song above are quoted in this chapter. They appear in bold italics and with quotation marks. This song was incredibly influential for this chapter, in both sound and lyrics, I encourage you listen to it!

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzSHTEpHg2s>

* * *

 

“The faculty Christmas party is going to be a fancy affair, so please dress accordingly,” McGonagall had announced two weeks earlier during a staff meeting. The room had buzzed with excitement and anticipation.

And now, the day after most of the students had left for the holiday break, the staff room was decorated in garland and red berries, smelling like freshly baked pies. Bottles of various types of alcohol lined the counters, a fire crackled from the fireplace, and a Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated in all the House colors. McGonagall had set the house elves preparing for the faculty holiday party for two days straight. She had enlarged the room to twice its size, allowing everyone to move around more comfortably. Surely, everyone would be compelled by the festive mood to put their prejudices aside and _have fun_ , or so McGonagall hoped.

Hermione entered the staffroom to find that nearly everyone else had already arrived. The chatter quieted for a few seconds as many heads turned towards her. She nervously ran her hands down the sides of her upper thighs, the beading of her dress rough against her palms, feeling self conscious of the attention she garnered.

Once she heard McGonagall’s announcement about the party she had gone through her old dresses at her cottage; she only had a couple of formal dresses, a light blue one she had worn to George and Angelina’s wedding two years prior, and a black velvet dress she bought last spring for the Quidditch formal she attended with Oliver. Frowning, she decided she didn’t want to wear either dress again. The light blue material had been stiff and scratchy and the black velvet dress’s neckline dipped scandalously low, forming a V that reached her naval, leaving her back exposed too. She didn’t feel it was the most appropriate to wear at Hogwarts. So she had gone shopping and bought a flesh colored dress made of tulle and silk thread with delicate beading all around it. While this dress hugged her curves and gave her some cleavage, it wasn’t quite as mature as the black one and she thought, at the time of purchasing it, she’d feel comfortable wearing it to the Christmas party.

But now, as eyes swept over her, including those of the two men who were closest to her age, she felt a bit awkward, seeing that the older women mostly wore traditional black dresses. She had applied a generous amount of Sleekeazy product to tame her curls and now her hair lay almost straight, with only a few loose curls framing her face. While Flitwick’s jaw dropped for a few seconds before he regained his composure, it was Keighly and Snape’s attention that made Hermione want to squirm under their scrutiny. She couldn’t tell if she felt regret for her decision or pleased with the results she was getting from those two men.

* * *

“Whooooaaa,” Sebastian Keighly’s mouth formed an O, his soft brown eyes wide, both eyebrows raised; Sprout shot him an amused look, her mouth twitching into a smile. Snape also looked at him, but with a very different expression. Snape’s eyes were stormy, his lips pressed together tightly. He looked back at Hermione, his expression changing to one of curiosity. He tried not to notice the curve of her breast, how slim her waist, her dark red lipstick, and practically luminescent skin. But he failed and drank in the sight of her along with everyone else.

Conversations resumed, however, and Hermione joined McGonagall, Sprout, and Keighly at their table. McGonagall leaned over to her and patted her knee. “You look lovely, dear.” Snape grabbed a cheese and olive kabob and tried to focus back on the conversation he, Vector, and Pomfrey were having before Hermione’s arrival. But instead his eyes and ears were drawn to Hermione. He heard her laughing at some entertaining story Keighly was regaling the women with as he gestured wildly, his face flashing through what seemed like a million expressions in just a few minutes.

Snape chewed on a piece of cheese very slowly, breathing through his nose. _Why did I even bother to come, I’m miserable._ He noticed Vector and Pomfrey staring at him expectantly. _Shit, did I miss a question?_ “Hmm?”

“We just asked you how one of your Slytherins managed to break nearly every bone in their body in the last couple of years?” Pomfrey laughed, shaking her head.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Yes, bloody hell, that Clouseau boy. Clumsiest person I’ve ever met. Can you imagine if he was on the Quidditch team?” Snape responded. The two women laughed heartily and he smirked. _Maybe this party isn’t so bad after all._

He saw Hermione rise out of her seat, clutching her dress in her right hand so that she wouldn’t trip over it. She made her way over to the counter, standing very near to him. He shifted so he could keep her in his periphery without breaking away from Vector or Pomfrey. She was looking through the assortment of wines and he could smell a familiar scent near her, something rich and sweet, but not fruity. He inhaled deeply. _Vanilla_. But there could be a hundred things in the room that smelled like vanilla, including the cake with cream frosting that sat on the counter next to the two of them, so he couldn’t be sure that scent belonged to her.

Keighly followed Hermione to the counter, standing on the other side of her, and pointed at various bottles she scrutinized. Snape strained to hear their conversation, but Pomfrey chose that moment to laugh loudly. He took a step closer to Hermione and Keighly, but kept his back to the counter, pretending to observe the room.

Hermione had settled on a wine and Keighly filled it for her. “Thank you.”

“Cheers,” he lifted up the glass he just filled for himself and Snape heard the clink.

“Your dress is outstanding, by the way. Really, you look stunning.”

Snape rolled his eyes, but glanced over at them. Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable under his praise, but smiled nonetheless. The beads on her dress sparkled under the lights of the room.

“Shall we see what Madam Hooch is up to over there? She certainly looks like she’s up to no good.” Hermione asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, of course, let’s,” Keighly offered her his arm and she took it gingerly as he led her across the room.

* * *

Hermione thoroughly enjoyed the first hour of the party. The house elves and McGonagall outdid themselves in planning the event. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun. Keighly and Sprout kept everyone entertained and roaring with laughter most of the time. Madam Hooch tried to get everyone singing Christmas carols, but the faculty turned out to be a lousy choir, stumbling through half forgotten lyrics or tipsy enough to make up their own, entirely inappropriate lyrics. Flitwick did impressions of the other professors, drawing loud hoots and cheers from the other professors with his spot on impersonation of Snape.

Hermione felt Snape’s eyes on her several times. Whenever she turned her attention to him his eyes would dart away from her and he seemed to stiffen. She was still a little mad at him after his confrontation about Oliver in the hallway in November. McGonagall had pulled her aside a few days later and brought up Snape’s point about students needing her in an emergency. Hermione understood and promised Oliver would only come on her designated nights off from duty, which were becoming fewer and far between now that the school year was well underway. She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty and knew Snape had a point, even if his confrontation seemed provoked by something more vindictive.

She felt his eyes on her again and she looked up and to her side across the room at him, trying to put on a neutral expression. This time he held her eye contact for a few seconds, before dropping his eyes. When she looked back at Hooch across from her, she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that his eyes had returned to her face yet again.

* * *

“Come, Severus, we’re playing Whist,” Flitwick called out jovially. Snape made his way to the long table Flitwick had lengthened with a flick of his wand. Snape moved as if to take the seat across the Sprout and claim her as his partner for the game. But the moment he pulled out the chair Keighly slipped into it. “Oh, sorry mate, I was already partnered with Pomona, just refilling my drink,” he wiggled the cup he held up to Severus’ face to verify his story.

Snape then looked at the head of the table to where Flitwick stood on his chair as he was shuffling the cards. “Have you claimed a partner yet?” Snape’s low voice rumbled. Flitwick gave him a startled look and fumbled with the cards, nearly dropping them.

“I…well, I’m the dealer this round, so I don’t have a partner.” He looked around the table and then pointed. “Sit down there,” he flicked his index finger. “Hermione needs a partner.” He returned his focus to the cards.

Most of the table had quieted their chatter down by this point, waiting for Flitwick to deal the cards. Hermione turned when she heard her name. It was true, she was the only one who needed a partner. Snape looked at Hermione with a guarded, calculating expression, gripping his cup. She sat up a little straighter, fidgeting under his stare and wringing her hands. Flitwick looked over his glasses and pointed again down the table as if Snape hadn’t heard him the first time, but Snape had already made his decision.

He put his cup down on the table behind him. “I’m afraid I’m going to call it a night.”

“Are you serious?! You were just ready to play a minute ago,” Keighly cried out, turning in his chair, looking at Snape incredulously. “Don’t leave Hermione hanging!”

“I have no doubt Ms. Granger can use her feminine charms to persuade someone else to be her partner. In fact, I’m quite surprised you didn’t jump at the chance yourself, Sebastian.” Hermione blushed bright red.

“Oh dear,” Trelawney murmured from the corner of the room where she sat drinking tea by herself.

“Dammit, Severus, do you have any tact?”

Snape merely shrugged at Keighly’s words, a deep frown pulling at his lips. Pomfrey, who sat next to Hermione, was patting her hands. “He doesn’t mean the things he says. Don’t let him get to you,” she tried to comfort Hermione.

“Excuse me.” He clenched both his jaw and right hand as he stole away, fleeing the room. He did feel ashamed of his behavior, although he’d never admit it to anyone; he was just glad McGonagall, who had stepped out of the party only minutes earlier to have a private conversation with Vector, had not witnessed the scene. Inside his room he lit the fire and slid onto the sofa, staring into the fire bleakly. **“ _There’s no room for love, no time for understanding. Sometimes I start a fight just to see if you care.”_**

He felt rotten. He had gone too far tonight, especially in front of everyone. He just couldn’t sit across from her when she looked like _that._ And he couldn’t stand the way Keighly looked at her or the way she seemed to favor him the most out of everyone. _She has a boyfriend for fuck’s sake!_ But on that note, he also didn’t want to defend Oliver. _Oliver isn’t right for Hermione._ _But then, who is right for Hermione? At least she isn’t dating that silly Weasley boy,_ like everyone believed when the two were still students. _Why the fuck am I thinking about this?_ Snape groaned with irritation at his internal monologue. He decided he needed a shower…a cold shower should bring him to his senses.

* * *

Hermione stayed to play a round of Whist, Lyra Messier, the Astronomy Professor, had left her conversation with an older gentleman hired to teach Alchemy for the fall term, to save Hermione from further humiliation by partnering with her. Hermione gave a small, grateful smile to the woman with thin white hair that looked more like soft cobwebs falling across her shoulders than hair. Hermione, however, had a hard time concentrating on the game and decided to take that as her cue to leave. Luckily she was able to slip away as everyone got up in between rounds to replenish their drinks.

She hurried back to her room, leaning against the door once she was safely inside. A few warm tears slipped down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, feeling silly for letting Snape make her this upset. It wasn’t the first time this year he had provoked her, and she assumed it wouldn’t be the last. But this time it felt more personal. And it hurt.

She remembered the way she found him in the library with Matilda, the way he kindly spoke to the student, the thoughtful attention he gave her. _Why does he hate me so much?_ More tears slid down her cheeks. She thought about the way he looked at her when she showed up at the Boathouse the day Voldemort attacked. He didn’t trust her, then or now. And he seemed to harbor a deep resentment towards her. **_“I never thought it’d be easy…but not hard like this.”_  **

* * *

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, resting her forehead against the door. _Please don’t let anyone try to bring up last night,_ she prayed silently. Raising her chin she pushed open the Great Hall’s doors and made her way to the head table. She had one final task to accomplish before she left for the holiday break. She surveyed the faculty table, a small smile playing at her lips as she took in the sight of the reticent group, most of them appeared to be incredibly hung over. Sprout held her head in one of her hands as if trying to shield her eyes from the light streaming in from the windows. McGonagall sat staring at her coffee cup, not moving; Flitwick, beside her, seemed to be drowning himself in his coffee. Keighly rested his head on the table, groaning every minute or so.

She noted the faculty members missing from the table. Levensen, the Norwegian Transfiguration Professor; Hooch; Clark, the Muggle Studies Professor; and Snape. _Well at least most of them are here_. Hermione was eager to get to her cottage and have some solitude. “Good morning” she said quietly, but cheerfully as she sorted the envelopes in her hand. She began to hand one out to each teacher as she walked the length of the table, down in front of the dais. “Hermione, how thoughtful of you,” McGonagall tore open her envelope to read the Christmas card. Hermione had taken the time the week before to write a personal note to every teacher, no matter how well she knew them. McGonagall, her eyes somewhat bloodshot, looked over her glasses at Hermione. “You seem to have escaped the misery we all share,” she gestured down both sides of the table. Keighly groaned again, his head still on the table. Hermione laid his card by it and moved on. “Indeed. I guess I didn’t drink as much as everyone else.” _Not to mention I left the party early to cover my humiliation._ Maybe no one remembered the scene between her and Snape.

“Can I leave Professor Clark’s card up here with you? I don’t know where his room is.” McGonagall nodded. “I can take Rolanda’s to her if you’d like, I’m going to meet her later for drinks,” Sprout told Hermione, holding out her hand. Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking at Sprout skeptically; she wasn’t sure any of her colleagues should drink again anytime soon. The sheer fact that her former professors could out drink her and her friends shocked her.

Hermione bid them farewell and was met with a low chorus of goodbyes and “happy holidays;” Keighly mumbling the words, struggling to lift an arm off the table to wave. Hermione slipped past Levensen’s room. The witch had charmed a little dropbox to hang from her door and Hermione easily slipped the card in.

One card remained in her hands and she turned it over and over as she walked the corridor. _He doesn’t even deserve this card. He’ll never know I didn’t give him one, he wasn’t at breakfast to see me deliver the others. Why should I give it to him when he clearly doesn’t like me or want anything to do with me? But that’s not true…that one day in Hogsmeade HE sought me out. HE started the conversation._ Hermione felt incredibly confused. _Just go down and slip it under his door. You don’t have to talk to him,_ she tried to reason with herself. _You took the time to write it to him._

Before she knew it she was in the dungeons, passing the potions classroom and nearing his room just down the hall. But she turned away and began pacing, wasting the time she could be spending curled up with a book at her cottage. _Just slip it under the door and get the hell out of here!_ She walked back to his door with determined stride. Just as she bent down to push the envelope underneath the door flew open and he stood there, just as startled as she was, his eyes wild. She froze in fear.

“I…I…” she stammered, rising slowly to her full height. She held out the envelope, giving up on articulating anything coherently. He narrowed his eyes at her and slowly reached out to take the card.

“What’s this?” His voice was stern.

She swallowed hard. “A Christmas card.” She winced, closing her eyes, not able to bear his reaction to her sentimental notion of gifting him with a card. When she looked back at him a few seconds later she saw surprise on his face as he surveyed the card. He looked back at her with a quick movement of his eyes.

“I wrote one to everyone last week,” she felt compelled to explain, rushing through the words. He remained silent for another few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to Hermione, so she turned to leave. Before she took more than two steps she heard his voice, but it was quiet and soft, unlike his usual sarcastic or severe tone.

“Happy holidays, Granger.”

She paused, trying to decide if the farewell was just a figment of her imagination. She looked over her shoulder and found him looking at her with a strange expression, almost as if he was looking to her for approval or forgiveness. “You too,” she heard herself say, just as softly. She left the dungeons quickly, more confused than ever and trying to decipher his demeanor. It had almost seemed like he was looking to her for mercy. But she dismissed that idea. _There’s no way Snape would be concerned with trying to earn mercy, from me most of all! He hasn’t even apologized to me for anything._

Back in her room she grabbed the bag she packed and did a quick check to make sure she had everything. Walking to her fireplace, she patted her jean’s pocket to make sure her wand was there and then flooed to her cottage, ready to be away from the school for close to two weeks.

* * *

Snape sat on the edge of his bed, turning the Christmas card Hermione gave him over and over in his hands. He’d read it three times that day. _I’m such an idiot._

And here he was, just a few days away from Christmas, with no one to spend it with again. He dreaded the holidays. Hell, he dreaded almost everyday. Minerva was right. He had assumed he’d probably die in the war; he’d mentally prepared for it…and _had_ hoped that the end of his life was near. His life had been pretty dreadful. He could acknowledge to himself that he was to blame for most of it, but not all of it. His father had been awful. The Marauders were the classic bullies he should have just ignored. Aggravating Lily and pushing her away had been an unintended mistake. But everything after the first Wizard’s War and certainly after the Battle of Hogwarts was his own fault. _If only I could just die and not have to feel this remorse and bitterness anymore._

He opened the card, staring at the words again, running his fingers over the letters of her name signed at the bottom. It was a genuine enough card, written before last night’s humiliation of course, but after his confrontation about Oliver’s late night visits. He was surprised she decided to write him a note to begin with and still deliver it the day after he humiliated her in front of everyone. _Did she actually want to be my friend?_

 _Dear Severus,_ he imagined her pausing with her quill just above the paper, stopping herself from writing Professor.

 _I wanted to write everyone a little note before the holidays to spread some cheer and thank them for all their hard work in helping the students and for the way everyone has accepted me back into Hogwarts as an equal._ He knew this was her customary opening line and knew it certainly didn’t apply to him very much. He had done very little to make her feel accepted as an equal.

 _More specifically I wanted to thank you for the book suggestion you gave in Hogsmeade, I’ve only started the book but it’s quite fascinating so far. I enjoyed your company that afternoon_ liar, Snape thought, rolling his eyes _and I wish we could have had more time to talk. I appreciate you checking in with me about your Slytherin students, it meant a lot to me._

_Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy the break._

_Cordially,_

_Hermione_

Her formal ending amused him. He forced his eyes away from the card and looked around his room. Despite his faults and brooding demeanor she still saw some good in him, still had something nice to say to him. It didn’t seem possible.

_Is it even possible to salvage myself?_

* * *

Hermione stared out the window of her parent’s dining room at the darkening sky and the light snow that fell outside. She twisted a curl between her fingers, her left hand holding a teacup. Her mind wandered far from her parent’s home. She knew she should be analyzing the conversation about marriage she had had with Oliver, but it was the abrasive former professor of hers that occupied her mind.

Snape never ceased to baffle her. One minute he was ridiculing her and her friends, sending nasty glares her way, and basically announcing to all their colleagues that he thought she was some kind of immodest seductress; the next minute he was recommending books, paying for her drink, and wishing her happy holidays.

He seemed angry at her most of the time and then every once and a while he softened and became approachable. She found it tiresome to keep up with his constant flux of moods, but for some reason she _liked_ how complex he was. The mystery was intriguing; she never knew what to expect with him. And Hermione Granger ALWAYS knew what to expect.

“Hey, stranger,” Susan Granger’s soft voice floated across the kitchen.

Hermione sat up straighter, turning her attention to her mother who had gone to the sink and began washing some of the dishes she’d brought from the living room where the rest of the family was gathered.

“I’m sorry, mum. I don’t mean to be secluding myself.” But Hermione remained seated.

“You seem deep in contemplation. Is something bothering you?”

“Just some interpersonal conflict, nothing huge.”

“Harry and Ron?” Her mom guessed.

Hermione laughed. “No. And it’s not Oliver either.” She gave her mom a reprimanding look. Susan held up her soapy hands innocently.

“I never said anything. I just wondered if we should expect him for the holidays.”

Hermione sighed. “His family booked tickets for an Australian cruise months ago.”

“You didn’t want to go with them? Or did they not invite you?”

“No, they invited me, but when they were buying the tickets I wasn’t sure what my Hogwarts schedule would look like and they left a few days before the holiday break began.” Hermione hadn’t minded though. She was relishing the time spent alone at her cottage the last couple of days.

“Ok, so if it’s not him, or the guys,” as she normally referred to Harry and Ron, “then…?”

“Another teacher at Hogwarts,” her voice flat in response. She stared at her teacup.

Susan nodded. “Ah. Someone undermining your authority?”

“He’s just so…frustrating. Confusing. He’s nice one minute and then just awful to be around the next. And I don’t really know what I did to offend him. He’s always been like this, even back when I was in his classes,” the words came rushing out of her mouth.

“He was a former professor?” Hermione had talked about her education with her parents at times, but Susan had always felt Hermione held back a lot of the truth about the wizarding world. After the battle, some light was shed on just what her daughter had been up to all these years, but Susan believed Hermione continued to withhold certain information, even to this day.

“Yes,” Hermione grumbled, rolling her eyes. Susan observed her daughter from across the room, still preoccupied with washing the dishes.

“You seem very hurt by him.”

“I don’t know why. I shouldn’t care! I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“Hmm…but you do obviously care.” Hermione looked away, back out the window. “Do you see any kind of redeemable qualities in him?” Susan’s voice was gentle.

When Hermione didn’t answer for a few minutes, Susan assumed Hermione was done with the conversation, and she, herself, let it go. She had started drying the dishes, resting her hip against the counter. The sound of Hermione’s extended family chatting could be heard coming from the living room. Someone shouted with glee. Hermione turned to look back at her mom and Susan raised her eyebrows. “They seem to have brought out the games.”

“He can be kind, in his own way,” Hermione started as her mom gave her a confused look at first, not understanding Hermione’s reference. “My professor-Snape, Professor Snape,” Hermione corrected herself.

“Snape,” her mother repeated. “Isn’t he the one who was hospitalized with you?” Hermione only nodded. “I think he’s lonely. He’s always seemed quite bitter. He might be depressed.” Hermione’s eyes were sad as she shared her thoughts on Snape.

“It’s hard to show kindness to someone who seems so unlovable,” Susan chipped in. “Can you ignore him and hope he’ll leave you alone?” Hermione shrugged.

“Or do you not want to ignore him?” Again, Hermione shrugged.

“Maybe if his bitterness runs that deep it has very little to do with you. Like you said, if he seems that lonely and depressed and he’s been that way ever since you can remember, then he’s probably closed himself off from the world. Maybe your patience and understanding is what he needs.”

Hermione bit her thumb nail. Susan put away the last of the dishes and motioned to her daughter. “Come, we only have you here for a couple of days.” Hermione gave her a small smile and rose from the table. Arm in arm the two women returned to the warm living room that Christmas night.

* * *

Two days later Hermione apparated back to Hogwarts, straight from her parent’s house, deciding to return to the school earlier than she had initially planned. McGonagall had given all the faculty members permission to apparate and disapparate, each of their wands were given a special encryption to allow them to do so, so that as long as they carried their wands with them it would go smoothly.

She couldn’t really describe why she came back to the school early, only that she felt a nudging pull, a gut reaction to do so. Hermione had a long history of dismissing intuition, others’ as well as her own. She had chalked it up as a pseudo-science, like divination, when she wanted cold, hard facts before making any kind of decision. But there _had_ been times when intuition had proved to be useful, and Hermione learned to acknowledge and sometimes even act on it, albeit with caution.

Hermione unpacked, deciding to listen to some angsty and sassy Alanis Morissette while doing so. She grabbed the next term’s lesson plans and sat down at her desk, rifling through her notes, adjusting schedules, and finalizing her class syllabi. A couple of hours later she felt famished, her blood sugar too low to continue focusing on her work.

She had missed the lunch hour, but knew there would be an assortment of snacks in the staffroom. She hurried down there. The school seemed eerily empty and quiet. She decided on a blueberry muffin and poured a cup of orange juice. Turning quickly she collided with someone who had just entered the room. A fountain of orange juice shot into the air and then rained down them, sticking to a few of her curls, smattering across his face, and down the front of his waistcoat and her sweater.

“Oh god I’m sorry!”

“Granger!” Snape’s face was red, a vein bulging from his neck. He wiped the orange juice off his face, his hand moving dramatically across his cheek. He lowered his arm slowly, looking at her with disdain.

She pulled out her wand and with a couple of flicks reversed the damage, freeing his clothes from the sticky substance. Emotion flickered across his face, the disdain evaporating. She stuck her wand back in her pocket, forgetting to use the same charm on herself. She felt terrible, knowing this would annoy him to no end, when he already despised her. She reached up, without thinking, and ran her hand across the fabric that clothed his chest, assessing if she’d dried it enough. He looked at her with alarm and she quickly withdrew her hand.

“Did you miss something?” He quirked an eyebrow as her eyes questioned him. Pulling out his own wand he performed the same spell on her, waving it over her clothes and paying close attention to her curls, making sure the juice was fully removed from the strands of her hair.

“Thank you,” she said meekly. He nodded silently, but didn’t move out of her way. “Did you enjoy your holidays?” she asked.

He shrugged and then moved aside. “Same as ever.” His eyes did a quick long sweep over her body, down and up again. Hermione felt sure that if most other men gave her that same look, she’d feel sexualized and uncomfortable, but his look didn’t make her feel that way. No, he didn’t look at her with lustful eyes, rather it was that same look of distrust he’d given her a handful of times before. She yearned to know what would make him trust her. Severus Snape may just prove to be the greatest challenge of her life.

“Well…I should get back to lesson planning,” she motioned at the door with her muffin.

“Do you want to more orange juice?” He walked over to the refrigerator, grabbing the handle.

“Oh, good idea.” She walked over too, but stopped when he held his hand out to her, instead of moving away from the refrigerator. “Your cup, Granger?”

“Oh.” She watched him refill it for her as he gracefully turned back to her, his robe hanging elegantly off his outstretched arm to return her glass.

“Thank you.” She felt meek again and took a small sip. He nodded, turning away from her. She wasn’t sure if she should stay or go, so she awkwardly stepped out of the room, pulling a bewildered face as she walked back to her room.

Snape stood very still for another couple of minutes after she left, his hands stretched out to either side, resting on the counter, as he faced the cupboards, grimacing. _What an idiot, pouring her juice for her?_ He sighed. It felt so unnatural for him to try and be kind to her. _Maybe it’s better to be feared than liked._ He pushed away from the counter, quickly exiting the room, completely forgetting what he had come in there for in the first place.

Underneath one of the tables a black and gray cat stretched its front legs as if waking up from a long slumber. But it hadn’t been sleeping at all. Instead, this tabby cat, whose eyes bore a close resemblance to that of Professor McGonagall, had been closely observing Hermione and Snape’s encounter.

* * *

“Hermione, it’s nice to see you back early,” McGonagall caught up to Hermione outside the Great Hall after dinner. She put her arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “Will you join me for some dessert and tea in my living quarters?” McGonagall asked pleasantly.

“Of course, I’d like that very much.”

The two women discussed their holidays as they walked to McGonagall’s rooms. McGonagall had stayed at Hogwarts, naturally, but did take leave on Christmas Day to visit a cousin in elsewhere in Scotland. “Oh the trees were so pretty! Glistening with frost, it was just lovely.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Hermione took the cup of tea McGonagall handed to her and settled on her sofa. “I brought back spice cake from my cousin’s house. Would you care for some?”

“I’d love a piece, thank you.”

McGonagall cut them each generous servings and settled into an armchair. “I’m curious to know why you came back earlier than you planned?”

“Oh, I just…I just had a lot of planning to do for this next term and wanted to get ahead,” Hermione shook her head, shrugging nonchalantly. She took another bite of the cake, savoring it.

“May I ask, did something happen between you and Snape at the party? I stepped out for a little bit, but I heard murmurs of something the next day.”

“It’s nothing,” Hermione suddenly found her cake very interesting to stare at.

“I’m sorry he’s harassing you. I’ve talked to him, I really have.”

“It’s ok. Please don’t feel the need to intervene, I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Really.” She put her plate down on the end table.

“I know, I just feel protective of you still. Must be a Gryffindor thing,” McGonagall laughed. “He’s had a hard life, that’s for sure. A very misunderstood man” she continued, somberly. Her eyes spoke volumes and Hermione keenly observed them.

“Hermione, I have…an odd request for you.”

Hermione looked at McGonagall with trepidation. “I am wondering if you would you be so inclined to take Snape out and make him do _something_ fun in the next few days before classes resume? The man is always so sullen.” It took Hermione a few seconds to recover from McGonagall’s request. She sucked in a quick breath.

“I’m not sure that would be such a good idea. I don’t think he would enjoy my company,” Hermione looked at her hands in her lap, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with McGonagall’s request.

“Hmmm,” McGonagall tapped her finger tips on the chair’s armrest. “I think if you were to be absolutely genuine in your proposal he would be compliant.”

“So it wouldn’t involve kidnapping then?” A smile played at Hermione’s lips. McGonagall laughed.

“I think if it were to get to that point then you should refrain and abort your mission. But let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point and that maybe he’ll actually enjoy himself. Take courage, young Gryffindor.”

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, twisting the coverlet between her fingers and thumbs. _I could really use Crookshanks to cuddle with right now._ The thought made her heart throb with a dull pain; Crookshanks died more than two years ago, but the ache of losing him was still fresh in her memory.

McGonagall’s request weighed heavy on her mind. _Take Snape out. How on earth will I convince someone who thinks I “use feminine charms” to get attention to hang out with me? Just how will I accomplish something like that? I don’t even know what he likes to do._ She began chewing on her thumb nail. _A pub? In Hogsmeade? Or London? Muggle London or Diagon Alley?_

The fact that it was winter didn’t help provide a lot of ideas. _Ice skating?_ She burst out laughing as she imagined Snape flailing around on ice skates, for some reason wearing his teaching robes, which only tripped him up more. The Christmas Market in London could be a possibility. Last year she went with Harry, Ginny, and Ron to the one in Hyde Park and absolutely loved it. Again, she tried to imagine if Snape would like it: all the sugary food, the lights, local musicians, and the observation wheel. She figured he would spend the evening making sarcastic remarks and letting her know just how much he detested the activities. _Sourpuss._ She frowned. And since they weren’t really friends she decided a quiet night in Hogsmeade would suffice. _Three Broomsticks? Madam Puddifoot’s?_ None of the options seemed quite right for an evening out with Snape.

Agonizing over this was giving her a headache and she laid down on her side, drawing her knees up to her stomach. She didn’t have a lot of time to make this happen. Oliver was due to return in a couple of days and she was sure he’d want her want her to come to London before the term started. They were over the row they had about marriage, but she was still keeping her distance if she could. She felt worn out with everyone wanting to talk about marriage as of late. _At least that won’t be a topic Snape and I will talk about_. And if it did come up she’d be most suspicious that someone had used polyjuice and was impersonating him. There was no way they’d ever delve into that topic. 

“Accio book,” Hermione summoned her book from across the room, mentally focusing on which book she meant. It flew into her hands. Maybe reading would alleviate some of her anxiety before bed. She read for a good hour, before her eyes grew weary. She stopped at a poignant sentence, contemplating it deeply, before marking her place and closing her book. The line from _Wuthering_ _Heights_ embedded itself within her mind, nestling in her heart.

**_“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.”_ **

* * *

“Good morning, Severus,” she said pleasantly, speaking loud enough for everyone else at the table to hear her as sat down beside him. His chewing slowed as she pulled out the chair next to him. He swallowed the half chewed scrambled eggs, thankful for their soft texture as they slowly slid down his throat. “Morning.” He didn’t look directly at her as he responded but paid careful attention to her every move out of the corners of his eyes.

She reached over in front of his plate to grab the coffee carafe, poured herself a cup, and began spreading marmalade on a piece of toast. She daintily laid a napkin across her lap and bit into the toast. “Mmmmm,” the sound she made as she savored the bite.

He suddenly lost his appetite, feeling nervous. _There were plenty of other seats open at the table_. _Why did she choose to sit by me?_ Apparently the other teachers were wondering that too. Flitwick did a double take at them as he entered the room. Vector caught Snape’s eye a few seats down from him and raised an eyebrow before turning away to resume her conversation with the Astronomy professor. Trelawney didn’t even try to be discreet about watching Hermione and Snape. She had pushed her chair back to get a better view and turned her whole body to face them as she nibbled on a piece of toast like a squirrel.

Snape decided to finish his coffee and escape. He didn’t like the extra attention he and Hermione were getting from the Divination professor. He gulped it down, a little too fast for his taste since he preferred to savor it slowly, and put the mug down firmly.

Hermione seemed to sense his plan to quickly depart. “I was wondering-” she began, as he started to rise from his seat. He plopped back down in his seat annoyed. “-if you would like to grab a drink with me…maybe tonight or tomorrow, if you’re free?” her voice light and casual.

“Why?” Suspicion could have been his middle name. Hermione had been prepared for the question, though.

“I wanted to get your expertise on some advanced potions and more suggestions for books. I finished _The Nightshade Guide to Necromancy_ last week.”

“Just a little bit of light Christmas reading?”

“Oh, definitely. I even did a read-a-loud for our guests on Christmas Eve. It was a hit. You know, death, always a great holiday topic.” She joked along with him, smiling at him.

“What, is everyone else busy so you take pity on me?” His mood quickly changed, the joking demeanor short lived.

“Nooooo,” she drew out the word, trying to remain patient.

“Ah, is it because you can’t invite your boyfriend over for a slumber party anymore then?”

She held her coffee cup to her lips, narrowing her eyes. _Why on earth did McGonagall think it was actually possible for Snape to have fun? “Be absolutely genuine,”_ McGonagall’s advice echoed through her mind and the quote from Wuthering Heights tugged at her heart.

“Not at all,” she put her cup down after a long drink. “I would really like your suggestions.”

Before Snape could reply Hagrid burst into the Great Hall, his feet pounding against the stone floor. “Professor Snape!” he called out still only half way across the room. “Professor Snape,” he bellowed again, now stopping in front of Snape and Hermione on the other side of the table, struggling to catch his breath. “Please…he’s…I need…”

Snape’s irritation was evident. “Hagrid, please collect yourself and start again. I cannot decipher your rambling.”

Hagrid inhaled a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, then letting it out, his face growing visibly calmer. “It’s Grawp. He seems to be sick again.”

“The same thing as last time?”

“Similar, but no’ exactly. He has some kind o’ rash, but this time he’s really listless an’ his eyes look like he’s been drugged.”

Hermione looked back and forth between the two men in confusion. Snape gave a quick nod and pushed back his chair. “I’ll make some more potion and-“

“Shouldn’t that be my job?” Hermione asked, feeling offended and left out. “I mean, since I have access to the storeroom?”

Snape’s look confirmed the level control he still had at Hogwarts. “Unless, of course, you still have access to the storeroom,” her voice flat. Snape gave a slight nod. “Of course you do,” Hermione couldn’t hide her annoyance now, her mouth in a tight, thin line.

He swept away, motioning to Hagrid. “Come if you must, Granger.” Hermione practically jumped off the dais, running to keep up with them. Trelawney turned back in her chair to face the table again, clearly disappointed in the turn of events.

Snape gave her a series of directions as they entered the potions classroom. She struggled to have her hands keep up with her mind and his instructions as she shuffled back and forth from the storeroom to the work table. Hagrid stood in the doorway of the classroom, constricted by the ceiling and bent over, twisting the bottom edge of his coat between his hands. 

As Hermione prepared the potion, Snape stood behind her looking over her shoulder, coaching her through each step. It was only half way through the process that she realized they were making some kind of variation for a boils cure. She didn’t recognize it and assumed it must be one of his own creations. _I need to remember to ask him about this._

“Let it fizzle for a minute,” his voice close to her ear startled her out of her thoughts. “Now strain.”

She followed his command with precise movements. Her curls stuck out now from the heat radiating from the cauldron. It had only been a few minutes, but Hagrid was nearly having a panic attack by this point.

“Ok, bottle it. It should fill three vials. Let’s go!” He flew across the room, not even bothering to grab a coat. Hermione capped the vials and ran after him, her face frantic.

The three of them headed into the Forbidden Forest and came upon Grawp, laying on the ground, barely conscious.

“Grawp,” Hagrid sobbed. Hermione fell to her knees, reaching for the giant’s hand. “Careful, Granger, I don’t know if his rash is contagious.” Snape grabbed the potions out of her hand. Slowly he nudged a knee under Grawp’s chin and pushed the giant’s head up slightly to tip one vial into his mouth. Luckily his mouth was already half open. The liquid hit his tongue and brought Grawp to his senses, as he began swallowing the potion eagerly.

“Will it be enough?” Hagrid questioned.

“For now it will. We should wait to see if it’s at least somewhat effective before we give him a stronger dosage.”

Grawp blinked his eyes slowly and looked at his half brother, moaning.

“I know, buddy, I know. We’ll ge’ yeh all healed up.”

“Oh Hagrid,” Hermione said, sympathetically. She reached up for his hand, still kneeling by Grawp.

“He keeps gettin’ sick, Hermione. I dunno why.”

“Snape will-“ she stopped herself, “we’ll figure it out, ok?” She looked around for Snape, but he had already disappeared.

 

* * *

**Chapter 5 BEHIND THE SCENES:**

“Bets, folks! Place your bets right here!” Sebastian Keighly called out in a sports announcer voice, roaming around the room carrying a quill and piece of parchment. “What will happen next between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape? Taking bets ladies and gentlemen, galleons only please!” Keighly stumbled over a chair in his drunken state. It had been approximately 20 minutes since Hermione had made her exit from the Christmas party.

Hooch stood up, wavering slightly as she found her balance. “Here take my money!! I vote she’s gonna slug him real good!”

“No, no! Hermione wouldn’t do that! She’ll most certainly avoid him. They’ll both avoid each other! It’ll be a whole awkward affair!” Pomfrey’s shrill voice rang out across the room. She fished in her purse for some galleons.

“I don’t think she’ll slug him, I think she’ll resort to giving him a firm lecture on manners,” Flitwick shouted, chuckling.

“They’ll both go complain about each other to Minerva and have to do couple’s counseling,” Sprout slapped her leg, bent over in laughter, her face bright red from her excited and intoxicated state. The whole room joined her in a fit of drunken giggles and hoots.

“And how much do you wager on that bet, Pomona?”

“Nothing! The thought of them doing couple’s counseling is absolutely absurd!”

“Severus will find redemption through Hermione,” Trelawney’s voice sang out from the corner in which she still sat. Everyone turned to look at her like she had gone daft. For a brief moment no one knew how to respond.

“What do you think Sebastian?” Flitwick broke the silence, turning back towards Keighly.

“Oh they’re totally gonna bang.*”

“Here, here!” Caspian Belshazzar, the Ancient Runes professor, shouted in agreement, holding up his cup ceremoniously. Another wave of resounding laughter could be heard down the hallway.

 

*Bang, Shag, Have sex ;)

 

**As always, thank you for reading, the kudos, comments, & subscribing/bookmarking! Let me know what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Have I mentioned that I adore Keighly? He’d probably be my best friend. This chapter picks up the same day the last one left off. One scene with lemons up ahead. 
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP, nor do I make any money from this story.

_I’ll be a better man today…I’ll be good, for all of the times that I never could._  
_My past has tasted bitter, for years now. So I’ll wield an iron fist. Grace is just weakness. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve been cold, I’ve been merciless._  
_But the blood on my hands scares me to death…For all of the bruises I’ve caused, and the tears. For all of the things that I’ve done, for all these years. For all of the sparks that I’ve stomped out…_  
_I’ll be good, I’ll be good. For all of the times, I never could._ - **“I’ll be Good” by Jaymes Young (or as I like to call it, Snape's song)**

**<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU> **

* * *

 

The abrupt knock at his door startled Snape. Finding Hermione standing right outside surprised him even more.

“Are you ready?” She had a determined look in her eyes.

He looked her up and down. She wore a coat and held gloves and a scarf in one of her hands. “For?”

“To go out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I never said I would.”

She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to leave the room. “C’mon.”

“And just where are we going?”

“Hogsmeade?”

He turned his back on her and walked away. Standing in his doorway, she watched him, biting her bottom lip. He took off his long robe and hung it on a hook along the wall. He was in his black waistcoat and a stiff white shirt that covered his neck. _So many buttons._ He pulled a long wool coat from his closet; it reached his knees, with just as many buttons as his waistcoat. He decided to go with her, intrigued by her offer to socialize with _him._

They walked to Hogsmeade in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione had her scarf pulled over the lower half of her face, so holding a conversation wasn’t really an option for her. Once they reached the edge of the village Snape asked for a more specific destination.

She shrugged. “Three Broomsticks?” He grimaced and shook his head.

“This way,” he jerked his head in the opposite direction of the Three Broomsticks. They walked to a quiet and darker part of the village, one that the students rarely ventured to. He held a door open for her and she quickly read the sign before dipping inside. _Hog’s Head._ It took her a moment to recognize the place; this is where they had first formed Dumbledore’s Army during her 5th year. A lone figure sat in the shadows at one end of the bar counter, talking to the proprietor, an older man with a long white beard and a sullen look.

Snape moved across the room to sit at a small table under a window. Hermione followed, visibly nervous as she removed her winter garments and sat down. “What would you like?” Snape asked brusquely.

She tugged on the sleeves of her ivory colored sweater. “A Butterbeer?”

He was back before she knew it, handing her a drink. “Thank you.” She took a drink, moving her hand across her mouth to make sure none of the foam remained on her upper lip, and cleared her throat as he settled himself into his chair. It creaked with each of his movements.

“Did you give Grawp another dose of the potion this afternoon?” She had cleaned up the potion lab and spent the rest of the afternoon in her private room, unaware of Snape’s activities.

“I did. He seems to be responding well.”

“It’s a variation of a boils cure, yes?”

“Correct. As you can see, he doesn’t have the typical ailment.”

“But he’s been getting sick for almost a year now?”

“Indeed. Always with a slight difference in rash and other various symptoms. I don’t know why. He’s so secluded in the forest and I highly doubt it’s from something he’s eating.”

“Hmm. So you’ve been adjusting some of the ingredients hoping that helps?”

Snape merely nodded and took a swig of his drink. It was dark in color and in a short glass.

“Firewhisky?” Hermione guessed, motioning with her chin at his glass.

Snape nodded again. After a brief pause in their conversation Hermione returned to the topic of potions. “I’ve actually been wanting to experiment with potions.”

“In what way?” This piqued his interest.

“I was thinking that after a few years or so of teaching at Hogwarts I might like to work at St. Mungo’s as a researcher.”

“Anything specific?”

“A few things. Like a longer lasting cure for lycanthropy. Or researching cures for developing illnesses, like Grawp’s. It seems strange, when I was younger I don’t remember new illnesses in the wizarding world popping up. Was it just because I was sheltered that I didn’t know?”

“Well I don’t know anything about ‘popping up’ but, in part, yes. At Hogwarts we didn’t have to deal with the problems of the wizarding world as much. Well…except for the problem of the dark lord, of course.” She winced, but he continued, returning to the topic of illnesses. “But these quick developing diseases seem to be rapidly progressing. It was happening a bit before, even when I was growing up, but not at this rate.”

“Like the Muggle world. It seems like every time I step back into that world or read something from one of their newspapers a new strain of the flu has been discovered or a variation of some disease has learned to adapt to antibiotics. It’s alarming.”

“I’ve been curious enough about it as well.”

“I was wondering if you’d let me help, if we could experiment together.” Again, she tugged on her sleeves. He gave her a quizzical look, lifting one eyebrow.

“You hope that Grawp keeps getting sick so that we can experiment together?”

“No!” She flushed with embarrassment, not understanding that he was, in fact, teasing her. “Just in general!”

He took another swig of his drink, his glass making a hard clink sound as it hit the table. “Maybe. I’m going to get another drink. You want anything else?” He observed her half full glass of Butterbeer.

“No, thank you.” She decided to take his “maybe” and pocket it, hoping that at another time they could come back to her proposal. When he returned she delved into another topic. “So…any other good books you recommend?”

“Hmmm…Spell Potions by Tim?”

“Read it.”

“Why Didn’t I Die When the Augurey Cried.”

“Read that too.”

“Really? Published in 1824 by Gulliver Pokeby.”

“Yes, I really have. I saw him on one of Ron’s Chocolate Frog cards and wanted to know who he was, and then I found his book. It was 4th year maybe?”

“What fascinating reading for a 15-year-old. But, silly me, I forgot you were the 11-year-old who had read the entirety of Hogwarts: A History in a summer. My, what a fun child you must have been.”

“I doubt you were any better,” she chuckled, not taking offense. “In fact, I bet you were devouring potions spell books the moment you learned to read.” She gave him a teasing look and took another drink. “So as a teenager, what should I have been reading then?”

“Oh I don’t know…Weren’t there some popular books about a group of babysitters who were learning to how date or those scary books…what were they called? Goose flesh?”

“Oh. My god.”

He shrugged. “Or perhaps classic literature. Austen, Dickens, Tolstoy, Bronte.”

“I’m reading Wuthering Heights right now actually. And I’ve read Pride and Prejudice _and_ Sense and Sensibility as a teenager. Oliver Twist before I even started at Hogwarts. And Anna Karenina twice.” She lifted her chin smugly. 

“Maybe I should be asking you for recommendations instead then.”

She sat up straighter, wiggling in her seat, obviously excited. “Actually I’m thinking about picking up Rita Skeeter’s biography on you, you know, whenever she _finally_ finishes it. I heard the working title is ‘Scoundrel or Saint?’ It’ll be good to finally have someone answer that because I certainly can’t decide.” Hermione couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He rolled his eyes into the back of his head so far they hurt. “She’s still working on that garbage?”

“Oh, Professor Snape, nothing Rita publishes is _ever_ garbage!”

“Just you wait until she writes a biography on you, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

She gave him a cheeky smile and then took a long drink, swallowing several times. When she lowered her glass her face became serious.

“So, did you really mean it?” her voice soft and quiet.

“Mean what?”

“That I flaunt my feminine charms.”

He sighed. He supposed he couldn’t be surprised this topic of conversation came up. “No.”

“Ok,” her voice was small. She stared down into her glass and bit her lip.

“I never took you for one who cared what others thought about you.” His tone was just a bit harsher than he intended it to be.

“Sometimes I do. I guess I just didn’t want you to see me as that kind of woman. I…I don’t want you to think I’m shallow.”

He watched her closely, but she refused to look up at him. “I don’t think you’re shallow.”

She guessed this was as close to an apology as she was going to get for his words at the Christmas party.

“You don’t have to put on a disguise anymore, you know,” she said softly, still staring at her glass. “No one’s watching you like Voldemort did.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he bluffed.

“Acting like you hate us…like you despise me.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his, which made him want to avert his own. 

“Who says that I don’t actually despise you?”

Her face fell again, but she quickly tried to regain her composure and hide her hurt. “Oh. I thought it was all for the purpose of proving to Voldemort that you were really loyal to him.”

“True,” was all he said. She looked up at him and waited for him to expound on his answer. After a pregnant pause she realized he didn’t intend to.

“I would prefer if you didn’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Who knows, maybe we could even be friends.” Her eyes were intense and now it was his turn to feel nervous.

“I’m not friends with many people.”

“Who are your friends?”

“Who do you think?”

“Minerva? The Malfoys? Vector doesn’t seem to mind you…” her voice trailed off.

“Vector and I are not close. The Malfoys have been pretty distant from everyone the last few years.”

“Well I know you were annoyed by me when I was younger. But, I can try to be less insufferable. Just sufferable instead.” Her eyes were playful again.

“That just might be the greatest challenge of your life.” He raised an eyebrow. She gave him an exasperated face, before finishing her drink.

They bundled back up and walked back to Hogwarts, at times making small talk about the upcoming semester, at other times remaining silent. Neither one of them suggested apparating back to the school, despite the cold; they were content enough to continue sharing each other’s company.

* * *

Snape actually found his night out with Hermione tolerable. Ok, he had actually had a _pleasant_ time with Hermione Granger. He didn’t see her at breakfast the next day, but he assumed she had slept in since they didn’t return to Hogwarts until close to midnight.

Snape headed down to the potions classroom and let himself in. He chuckled, remembering how aggravated Hermione seemed when she found out he still had full access to the storeroom. He began to cut, mince, and mix the ingredients for the cure he’d coached Hermione through the day before. He planned on making enough for the rest of the week, it was easy enough to store in room temperature.

Over an hour later he carefully placed six vials in his robe’s pockets and made his way outside. The air was crisp and stung his face. By the time he made his way to Hagrid’s his cheeks were red and chapped. When he couldn’t find Hagrid, he made his way into the Forbidden Forest by himself, stepping over fallen trees and watching two foxes playfully chase each other, kicking up snow with their hind legs.

Grawp was still laying on the ground when he found them. Hagrid had covered him with a few blankets. Sighting Snape, Hagrid tried to discreetly wipe away the tears on his cheeks and Snape pretended not to notice.

“How’s our patient today?”

“He seems a bit betta, still drowsy though.”

“Well let’s hope any progress is good progress.” Snape bent down so he was close to the giant’s face, observing Grawp’s skin, hair, and eyes carefully. “His rash has faded a bit. Grawp, can you tilt your head up and take more medicine?”

Grawp complied and Snape easily deposited three vials worth of potion down his throat. He took out the other three and handed them to Hagrid. “Wait until about six to administer these.” Hagrid nodded, putting them in his own pocket.

“It’s really nice o’ yeh to come.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Hermione came earlier this mornin’. You jus’ missed her.”

 Snape only gave a small nod in response, but he did feel disappointed that he had ‘just missed her.’ After a few moments of silence, interrupted by Grawp groaning and rolling over, Snape decided to head back into the school before he caught a cold from his lack of winter apparel.

“I’ve brewed enough for the rest of the week. I’ll either deliver it or send Hermione with it. I do believe it’s working.”

Hagrid thanked him. “Wha’ do yeh suppose it is, Professor?”  
“You’ve never seen anyone else in the forest?”

“Only the centaurs.”

Snape narrowed his eyes deep in thought. “I doubt it’s from any plant, no matter how treacherous this forest can be. Plus, it keeps mutating and changing. Ask the centaurs if they have any information the next time you see them.”

“Yes, sir.” Hagrid bowed slightly, feeling deeply grateful for Professor Snape, despite fearing Snape’s menacing demeanor.

“Let me know if anything changes,” Snape gave his final command, trying to hide his shivering. He swept away, his black robe caressing the snowy ground behind him.

* * *

Harry and Ginny decided to throw a New Years Eve party and had invited far too many people. Their loft was now packed, loud, and incredibly hot. Someone kept messing with the volume on the Muggle sound system Harry insisted they buy.

Oliver had proposed they attend the party, and Hermione, hoping for a quieter New Years Eve, reluctantly agreed. She had only seen Ginny once since their tiff in the fall; at a dinner with the gang in early December.

Hermione, got ready at her cottage earlier that day, decided on a black lacy blouse, jeans, smoky eye makeup, leaving her curls alone. She supposed other women would be wearing cute dresses, but she went for a more comfortable approach.

They arrived, finding many Quidditch players, much to Oliver’s delight, and a lot of Hogwarts alumni. Oliver was soon lost in the crowd, in a heated debate over the skills of Eastern European Quidditch players. Hermione spotted Harry and Ginny, looking very posh, making their rounds with the guests. Ginny wore a slinky black dress, her hair pulled up into an elegant ballerina bun on the top of her head. Hermione looked for someone she felt comfortable enough to lounge with, but Ron was across the room flirting with a group of girls, Romilda Vane being one of them.

Hermione slipped into the kitchen to find Neville giving her a guilty look. “I’m hiding.”

She burst into a grin. “Me too. Why are you hiding?”

“Have you seen how many people are out there? Bloody hell, it feels like half of London is here. Plus, Hannah Abbott was trying to talk to me.”

Hermione giggled. “May I hide with you then?”

“Yes, please do.”

Hermione looked around. “Too bad all the food is out _there,_ ” she motioned with her head.

“Oh, I’m sure they have extras in here.” Neville opened up the fridge, bending in half to look in it. He pulled out a vegetable tray and a creamy mix, reading the label. “Pesto hummus dip.”

“Yes, bring it out!”  
“So who’s working tonight if you, Harry, and Ron are all here?”

“Pretty much everyone else, lots of newbies hired right before the holidays. Tonks is, I know that.”

“Well I’m glad you all get a night off.” Hermione munched on a carrot.

“So you like teachin’ eh?”

“Oh yes, definitely. I mean, it was a rough start, but I liked it by the end of the term.”

Neville slowly stirred a cracker around the hummus dip. “You should, uh, maybe let me know if Professor Sprout ever starts talking about retiring.” He looked up at Hermione, his eyes hopeful.

“Oh I had no idea you’ve been thinking about teaching! That’d be wonderful to have you there.” She touched the side of his arm, smiling at him affectionately.

“Only thinking about it, ya know, if a Herbology position opens of course. I don’t know what else I can teach.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts! With your Auror training!”

“Yeah, maybe,” he looked skeptical. “But I really feel like Herbology is the only thing I’d be good at teaching. Plus there’s no way Snape would ever give up that job after wanting it for so long.”

“Well I’ll definitely let you know-“

“Hey, Hermione, c’mon, Ron wants to play charades.” Oliver had popped his head into the kitchen. Hermione looked at Neville, silently mouthing “save me” as she followed Oliver.

The game of charades didn’t last too long. Too many distracted people didn’t make for any cohesive game plan. Hermione retired to the sofa to become a mere observer of the party. 

“Hey.” Ginny said as she sat down next to Hermione, crossing one smooth and well sculpted leg over the other. She had been eyeing Hermione from across the room for close to 30 minutes now.

“Hey…So…I’m sorry for being such a jerk.” Hermione winced, shame filling her eyes.

“Good. Apology accepted. Now let’s move on from it and not drag it out into a long emotional conversation, yeah?” Ginny’s no nonsense, practical conflict resolution approach made Hermione smile. “Besides I need you to get your butt in gear and start acting like the Maid of Honor you’re supposed to be.”

“Right you are. How’s the planning going?”

“Oh, you know. Mum has a lot of opinions. You’d think it was her wedding.” Both the girls giggled. “I’ve missed you,” Ginny leaned her head on Hermione’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. And your mum.”

“How are things going with you?”

“They’re going well,” Hermione smiled faintly, remembering her time at Hog’s Head with Snape a few nights ago. “I am much more prepared for this term and the break was nice.”

“That’s good. Oliver said you were back at Hogwarts early, instead of your place.”

“Yeah, just a lot of work to get done.” Hermione desperately wanted to confide in someone about befriending Snape, but she wasn’t sure how anyone would take it. And she wasn’t sure if she and Snape were actually becoming friends anyway. It _was_ only one night. Still, she decided to go for it, knowing Ginny, out of all her friends, would probably be the most open minded about their former professor.

“So…uhhh…McGonagall has given me a difficult task,” she began tentatively. It helped that she had McGonagall’s request as an excuse.

“Oh yeah?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ron dropped into an armchair and kicked his feet up on the table.

“Oh…you know…nothing much,” Hermione tried to say casually. “Wedding planning.” She shrugged one shoulder. Ginny shot her a sideways glance and noticed she stiffened.

“Boo! That’s all anyone wants to talk about lately.” He pulled a face.

“Well, brother, if you don’t like it you can just head back over there with the guys.” Ginny shooed him away with her hand.

“Boring, you ladies are boring!” He cried out dramatically, as if this was a great injustice. But, thankfully, he dropped his legs from the table and headed over to where Neville, Harry, and Oliver stood talking.

Ginny turned back towards her friend, squaring her shoulders. “So?”

“So wedding planning!” Hermione now felt too nervous to talk about Snape.

“Nooooooooo. What did McGonagall ask you to do?”

Hermione sighed. “Oh, it’s nothing. Really.”

“Then why couldn’t you tell me in front of Ron?”

“It’s just…well…she asked me to befriend Snape.” Hermione looked anxiously at her friend, almost afraid to see Ginny’s reaction. But Ginny held a neutral, calm expression.

“Interesting. Why?”

“I don’t know. She just said to ‘take him out and make him do something _fun_.’”

Ginny nodded slowly. “And have you?”

“We went to a little dive bar in Hogsmeade.”

“Well, did he have fun?”

“I’m not sure actually…maybe? We talked about books and potions and stuff.”

Ginny decided to let the “and stuff” part go, for now at least. “So you guys gonna hang out again or what?”

“Maybe?”

Ginny laughed. Hermione gave her another sheepish look. “Does it seem weird?”

Ginny looked around the room, mostly at the ceiling, assessing the situation in her mind.

“No…not really. Maybe.” She couldn’t decide. “To me, not so much. I think that if he wasn’t so hard to get along with that you guys might actually have a lot in common. You know, both nerds,” Ginny nudged her elbow into Hermione’s ribs, playfully. “The age difference might seem a little weird…but at the same time, we’re all adults now, so I guess it’s not really that unusual. I mean, Harry was close with Remus and Sirius. Tonks and Remus. Us and Tonks. Snape and Dumbledore.” Hermione nodded, thinking through the examples.

“But it’ll be weird to the guys,” Hermione looked over at them.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Well I don’t know how close we’ll really get. I mean, it’s _Snape_. I just can’t really see him wanting to hang out all the time. The only time I’ve ever seen him laugh is when he’s being sarcastic or mocking someone.”

“Yes, but there’s always plenty of books for you guys to talk about.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep me updated. I want to know if anyone can finally break through his icy exterior.”

Hermione chuckled. “I will.”

“So, we’re going to go shopping for wedding clothes, if you’re free. In two Saturdays from now. I wasn’t sure if you could get away from the school.”

Hermione smiled warmly. “I’m sure Minerva will let me have an afternoon off for that. Who all is going?”

“Fleur and Angelina I think. My mum, of course. My bridesmaids, so you and Tonks. Luna gave me her measurements, so I’ll pick up a dress for her too.”

“Perfect! I’ll be there.” Despite her previous reactions to all the wedding talk, Hermione genuinely felt excited about going dress shopping with the girls.

Ginny’s face grew serious. “Umm, I asked Ron to walk me down the aisle.” She picked at her finger nails. Seamus chose that exact moment to turn up the music unbearably loud, laughing as Kanye West blasted from the speakers.

“Hey, turn it down, you tosspot!” Ginny yelled over the music. Seamus’ face reddened as he quickly turned the dial. Ginny turned back towards Hermione, her face completely passive despite what she had just told Hermione and yelled at Seamus.

“He said yes, right?”

“Of course.”

“Oh Ginny!” Hermione felt her heart constrict with sadness at her friend’s loss. “Your dad would be so happy and so proud.”

“It’s been over five years and I still feel like my heart is getting ripped out from my chest when I think about it. Losing Fred was just awful. But losing my dad at the same time…I wish I could have killed Nott senior myself. I would have done it too. ”

“I know.”

“I hope we never have to face anything like that again.”

Hermione snaked her arm through one of Ginny’s, resting her head on the redhead’s shoulder. “Me too.”

The girls sat like that for awhile, watching everyone else, their faces stoic as they remembered the battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Soon, it was nearly midnight, and they were pulled to their feet by Harry and Oliver, who handed them party poppers. The girls smiled at each other as the clock struck midnight, ringing in the new year. Oliver swung Hermione around to face him, feverishly kissing her. Ginny and Harry were wrapped in a tender embrace. Ron was in a wild make out session with Romilda, which began well before midnight. Seamus managed to get a peck from a tall female Quidditch player. Neville stood to the side of the room, his hands in his pockets, as he avoided eye contact with Hannah. Lavender and Parvati stood next to him, enjoying a passionate kiss of their own.

* * *

“Hermione…oh fuck, Hermione,” Oliver, moved his hands from her hips down her butt, grabbing the back of her thighs, as she rode him, sitting on top of him. She threw her head back, her long curls reaching her lower back, her breasts bouncing with each movement she made.

She knew he was close to completion and she was determined to meet her own needs, so she leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of his head as she braced herself, moving faster and faster on top of him. He let out a low groan, small beads of sweat spotting across his forehead. Shakily she pulled one arm away from the bed, making sure she had her balance while she continued to thrust, and moved two fingers between the soft tussle of curls and flesh.

She shuddered as she touched herself, finding the hard nub of her sex and rubbing it in a rhythmic motion, choosing her middle finger for the action. She became so lost in pleasuring herself she almost forgot Oliver underneath her. She had pulled back up into a sitting position, unable to contain her moaning, massaging one of her breasts with her free hand.

He finished about a minute before her, his eyes glazed over as he watched her touch herself and listened to her moans. When she realized he was done she pulled off of him, but continued her own quest towards fulfillment, on her knees beside him. It lasted another couple of minutes as her orgasm hit hard. “Oh god, oh god” she repeated over and over, her voice raspy. Her legs were trembling, she could barely hold herself up. His seed ran down her legs, some of it on her hand, turning her on all the more.

The orgasm hit her in multiple waves, her body pulsating as she finally crashed to the bed, writhing. She kept her fingers pressed inside of her folds as she rode out the waves, unable to move in the intensity of it all.

“Fuck, Hermione. That was so hot to watch.” He laid a hand on her back, but she lay completely still now, facing away from him, her body releasing its tension. _It’s been way too long since I’ve done this_ , she thought. And by “this” she meant self-pleasuring. Sure, Oliver had brought her to orgasm before, but not as well or as frequently as she could do for herself. She moved off the bed and hobbled into the bathroom.

“You ok, love?”

“Yeah, I just need to pee,” which she did, and then carefully cleaned herself off with a warm rag. She grabbed her contraceptive potion, holding it up and making a mental note that she would need more soon. _A month left?_ Depending on how often she saw Oliver once the term started, she could probably drag it out a couple of months. She searched through her makeup bag. Yes, she’d definitely need more birth control soon. She was completely out of the Muggle pills.

She slipped back into bed, still naked, and this time cuddled up to Oliver. She _had_ missed him. He wrapped an arm around her, but was already falling asleep. “Happy new year. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, k?” he mumbled.

“Sounds lovely,” she whispered, kissing the side of his head. She reached for her wand on the nightstand. “Nox,” she said, barely flicking her wrist, as the room went dark.

The next morning Hermione sat on a barstool, a large plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes topped with strawberries and blueberries in front of her. She wore a white t-shirt and pink panties. Oliver strolled around his kitchen, shirtless, in a pair of boxers as he refilled her coffee.

“So, I was wondering when we could return to the topic of marriage. _Without_ getting in a fight this time.” He didn’t look at her, instead he moved around the kitchen, piling food onto his own plate.

Hermione sat up straighter and slowly set her fork down. She swallowed her bite of pancake, which suddenly felt sticky in her mouth. “Listen, I know we should talk about it and I want to, I really do. I just need a little more time before we do. Please?” Her eyes pleaded with his.

He didn’t answer for a minute, taking the time to cut up his pancakes instead. “Alright.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. I just want us to have a fun and relaxed day. Just the two of us, enjoying the first day of the new year together.”

And they did. They spent the day casually roaming around the Muggle shopping district of London, arm in arm. They went to a sweets shop and ate sea salt caramels and chocolates until they both felt like puking. They walked Picadilly Circus and acted like tourists in front of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. Hermione insisted that they buy a disposable camera to document the day. They kissed and giggled like the young lovers they were.

Hermione felt content. She had eased into her job; things seemed better between her and Ginny, as well as with Oliver; she had resolved to get along with Snape and he seemed willing to pursue some kind of friendship. She felt young and carefree.

* * *

The second term got off to a dramatic start, with two second year students managing to get concussions after getting thrown from the Whomping Willow on the third day back. Witnesses claimed they had been reenacting the final battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort, unaware they had gotten so close to the tree. McGonagall shook her head and pursed her lips, giving them a stern look all too familiar to Hermione, as they stood over the boys in the infirmary. Pomfrey moved around, taking diagnostic assessments.

“A Gryffindor and Slytherin. Well, at least we can say we’re building some kind of inter-house unity if they’re willing to play together.”

“We were just playing, we promise!” Jasper Collins, the Gryffindor, cried out from his bed.

“Yeah, we don’t really hate each other,” Cade Willoughby, the Slytherin, chimed in.

“And which one of you was pretending to be Voldemort?” McGonagall asked. Both boys averted their eyes.

“Me,” Cade’s small voice could barely be heard.

Snape entered, hearing McGonagall’s question and his student’s response. “I have heard that one of my students was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Mr. Willoughby, just because you’ve been sorted into Slytherin doesn’t mean you have to play Voldemort. Mr. Collins could certainly play that role if he wanted to.”

“While I don’t agree with Professor Snape that you should be reenacting Voldemort versus Potter at all, I assume he is trying to convey to you both that not all Slytherins are innately bad and Gryffindors innately good. And it’s a good lesson to learn, so take note boys. Mr. Willoughby, why don’t you explain to your head of house the entire story. And while I think concussions are enough of a punishment to scare the wits out of you, I will leave any further punishments up to Professors Snape and Granger.”

A few minutes later Snape and Hermione walked to the Great Hall for dinner, chuckling about the incident, and deciding not to punish the boys. Despite there being a few other faculty seats open, she chose to sit next to him, which pleased him. In the last few days she hadn’t sought him out during their free time. She had resumed sitting next to Sprout and Keighly. But she hadn’t been ignoring Snape either, he could tell. She smiled at him, they shared a few words when around each other, and he could tell from her body language that she felt comfortable around him. So Snape felt content.

At dinner they talked casually about their classes and students. They didn’t argue. They didn’t flirt. They didn’t make assumptions about each other. And they both felt pleased that they were getting along.

* * *

“Happy birthday.” Hermione stood at his bedroom door, like she had done the night they went to Hogsmeade.

“Who said it was my birthday?”

“A little birdie told me so.”

“Excuse me?” He hadn’t heard this Muggle expression before.

“Ok, I guess it was a little kitty that told me,” she confessed. He picked up on her meaning now. _Minerva._

“Well, my secret’s out. Are you going to sing to me now?”

She grinned. “No, but I got you something.” She held up a bag.

“You shouldn’t have,” he replied, his expression perfectly deadpan.

“Can I come in?” The grin remained on her face.

“If you must.” He held the door open to let her pass.

“It’s just something small.” She surveyed his room. _She really does just barge into people’s lives if you give her the slightest chance, doesn’t she?_

“The suspense is killing me.”

“You really have that deadpan wit down pat, don’t you?”

“Get on with it, Granger.” His voice was stern, but his expression showed a playful side. She held out the gift bag obediently. Opening it he found a bottle of the finest brand of Firewhisky. “Exceptional taste, Granger.” He admired the bottle and she beamed. “There’s one more thing,” she raised herself up to her tiptoes, looking at the bag still in his hands, in anticipation.

He pulled out a fat cigar, taking in the scent as he held it under his nose, his eyes closed. “Perfect.”

“I wasn’t sure if you liked cigars, but I thought with the Firewhisky they made a very manly gift.”

“Indeed. I always enjoy a well made cigar. Thank you,” he voice sincere. “And thank you for not choosing a ‘girly gift,’” he teased, while keeping a straight face.

She laughed. “I was going to knit you a scarf!”

He pulled a face. “I much prefer this gift, thanks.” She laughed again.

“Stay and have a glass before you leave?” He was already pouring himself some.

She scrunched up her face at his suggestion. “I’m not a fan of Firewhisky.”

“Hmmm, but you’ve probably always had the cheap stuff.” He poured a second glass. “Try this. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Their glasses clinked. She took a drink, holding her breath. It burned her throat and she struggled to hold back a cough, shaking her head.

“No? Still don’t like it?”

“Afraid not.”

He moved towards the couch and motioned for her to join him.

“I actually have duty tonight, I’m sorry.” He analyzed her face, determining that she was genuinely apologetic. “But, perhaps we could hang out again on a weekend when we’re both off duty?”

He bowed his head. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

“Alright. Good evening, Professor Snape. Enjoy your Firewhisky.”

“Goodnight, Professor Granger.”

* * *

A book slammed to the table in front of Hermione. Her hands, poised on a writing pad as she took notes, just barely escaped being crushed by it.

“Sorry, that fell harder than I expected,” Snape said as he came around the other side of the library table to sit across from her.

Hermione looked at the book. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” she read the title out loud.

“It’s an American classic. Have you read it?”

She grinned. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well then. My work is done.”

“This book deals with racism, yes?” She turned it over, reading the back.

“Among other things.”

“Like what?”

 “Morality… not issuing hasty judgments about others. It’s also a coming of age story.”

“I think I’ll enjoy it a lot. Thank you.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile and looked over her books and writing pad. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to research the wizarding world’s medical history and find any patterns in developing diseases and ailments, like we talked about.”

“And?”

She looked dismayed. “So far it hasn’t yielded much information.”

“Severus, come quick!” McGonagall’s voice was frantic and she held a letter in her hand. Neither had noticed her enter the library. “I need you in my office. Hermione, you can come too, Harry and Ron will be flooing in shortly.”

Hermione threw the books and notepad into her back, following McGonagall and Snape out of the library.

“What is it?” Snape asked keeping his voice low and looking around the hallway. McGonagall’s eyes also swiftly darted around the hallway before answering.

“There’s been an attempted breakout at Azkaban.” 

* * *

 **A/N #2-** Please don’t hex me for having Arthur killed off in the war, I’m sorry! I’m sure a lot of you love him! I love him too! Perhaps I should have mentioned that he died earlier on, but I wasn’t actually going to reveal it until about chapter 9. I did put a lot of thought into when to break the news to you all. Also, I don’t want this story to turn into too much smut/lemons, but I will be adding it where I think it should be part of the storyline, so occasionally.

**Questions, Comments, Concerns, Predictions?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly PSA to my fellow ladies: take note from Hermione & remember to pee after sex to reduce your chances of a UTI ;) And for my fellow American readers: Happy Independence Day! 
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP. But if I did, Snape would have had his own series, dammit.

 

Tonks felt on edge, worn out from the events that transpired within the last hour at Azkaban. _Weak, I’m getting weak._ She moved her neck from side to side, cracking her vertebrae. _The last few years have been too tame. We need to be more vigilant. We need to be ready._

A high pitched screaming began, paired with a muffled banging. Wand out and holding her breath, Tonks slowly walked down the dark hall of cell blocks until she could tell where the sound was coming from. Cell block 10. The screaming continued, hurting Tonks’ ears the closer she got. She could see it was the prisoner’s hands and arms hitting the cell’s bars, swinging back and forth wildly, that made the muffled sound. The prisoner was sure to have some nasty bruises by tomorrow.

“QUIET!” Tonks screamed as she came face to face with the prisoner causing the ruckus. Before she could react, spit hit her face, the prisoner’s spit, Alecto Carrow’s spit. Most of the sticky, smelly substance landed on her right eye, but some on her cheek and nose. Tonks reached up and wiped it away with the sleeve of her dark coat, trying not to gag.

“You will be silent, prisoner!”

“Fuck off!” Alecto shouted. She resumed her screaming.

“Silencio!” Tonks aimed her wand at the female prisoner’s neck and the screaming immediately stopped.

“Now you listen to me, Carrow. You will settle down and shut up or I’ll hand you over to Robards and he’ll be more likely to cast a more permanent silencing spell on you, you got it?”

Alecto raised her chin, her icy blue eyes defiant. Tonks pushed her own face against the bars, getting much too close to the prisoner. She knew she was putting herself in a dangerous position, but she wanted to appear as menacing as possible. “You got it?!” Her dark eyes flashed. Alecto gave a slight nod and Tonks lifted the spell, walking away.

“You can’t torture us in here anymore, I know my Wizengamot rights! You’ll all end up in here with us if you’re not careful!”

Tonks stopped walking, but didn’t turn around or say anything.

Alecto hissed, sounding exactly like an angry cat. “Don’t you wish the Dementors still guarded Azkaban right about now? At least _they_ could get away with torture.” Alecto cackled looking positively possessed as the moonlight from her tiny cell window lit her sallow, gaunt face. She’d lost a lot of weight imprisoned in Azkaban the last five years, at times refusing to eat at all.

Tonks turned back towards Alecto slowly, a sneer across her face. “Ah, yes, pity we can’t, since this fortress was created all those centuries ago to slowly torture and kill others. But, at least with us, _mere humans_ guarding it, a prison break seems impossible now, doesn’t it?” Tonks cocked her head to the side, chuckling. “Plus, I’m sure there are magical ways to permanently damage your vocal cords and make it look like it happened…naturally…just a side effect from all the _screaming_ you seem bent on doing.” Tonks spat out, her eyes vindictive, her voice threateningly low. She looked Alecto up and down. “We’re gonna have to restrain you more, I see. Can’t have you bruising yourself up just to get attention now can we?” She winked and continued walking away.

“Bitch!” Alecto screamed, her hands gripping the cell block bars, her forehead pressed against the cold metal.

Tonks rounded the corner and ran straight for the loo, barely making it before the burning vomit escaped her mouth. She wretched into the toilet bowl over and over again until her stomach had emptied its contents, a response to having that vile woman’s bodily fluids spewed across her face only minutes before.

Finally her stomach and mind calmed down, although her heart continued to race. She sat on the cold floor of the loo for a few minutes, wishing for a long hot shower and the comfort of her bed. But she still had a few more hours left on her shift. She pulled herself up slowly; her muscles aching from all the adrenaline that had coursed through her earlier that evening. She washed her face as thoroughly as she could, until her skin was raw and red from scrubbing it violently with a wet paper towel.

She sighed. She missed Teddy, who was spending the night at her mother’s. She missed Remus. She missed her dad. She even missed Alastor Moody, who had been like a second father to her, albeit an obnoxious father-like figure, always finding the need to correct her. Tonks stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t lose any more people she loved. And she needed to be there for Teddy. Tonight had been a scare, but perhaps it opened their eyes to ways they could improve as Aurors. They all needed to learn from this and move on. _I need to be stronger. I can’t be caught unprepared._

* * *

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry said wearily as he entered her office from the fireplace. Ron and an older man followed him out of the fireplace. The floo network was closed between Azkaban and Hogwarts, so the Aurors had disapparated to the Ministry first.

“Misters Potter and Weasley. Gawain Robards, I haven’t seen you in _years._ I wish the circumstances for this reunion were different, but it’s still good to see an old friend,” McGonagall warmly welcomed the two younger Aurors and Head Auror into her office.

“I agree, Minnie,” Robards said, using her nickname from her younger years. His skin had a grayish tint, his hair looked similar to Filch’s, and his teeth had yellowed. He didn’t look very healthy at all.

“You probably all know each other,” McGonagall swept her arm towards Snape and Hermione. “Professors Snape and Granger.” Robards nodded at them before taking a seat at McGonagall’s desk.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and then did the same to Ron. But she pulled away quickly, feeling like her actions seemed childish in front of the others. She did, however, continue to observe the guys. Harry had a bruise under one eye and a couple of scratches along his cheek. Dry blood spotted the bottom and outside of Ron’s nostrils, his bottom lip cut. Robards appeared to be unscathed.

McGonagall was also taking in the sight of the bloodied and bruised men. “Are all the Aurors alright?”

“Just a bit banged up, no severe injuries or deaths,” Ron answered.

“The prisoners fought you?”

“A few rushed at us, but without their wands it was easy to restrain them,” Harry answered this time.

“Were they former Death Eaters or new prisoners?”

“Both, it seems. There were five. It was chaotic.” Ron shook his head.

“But _how_?”

“It’s a bit of a complicated situation. We can’t tell if there was outside help in some way, if it had been planned or was more spontaneous. We basically don’t have any evidence for it,” Robards said gruffly.

“Someone using polyjuice? Or an animagus?” McGonagall ran through the ways others had escaped in the past. Robards just shook his head, shrugging. “Was it an inside job, one of the Aurors? Do you have a defector, Robards?”

“I sincerely doubt it,” he sounded offended by her last question.

“How did they get out of their cells without their wands?” By this point, McGonagall’s face had grown incredibly pale.

“They tried to steal our wands. One of them got mine for a couple of minutes, wretched it right out of my hand, but I was able to get it back.” Ron touched his nose, indicating that’s how it had been bloodied.

“We were transporting two of them back into their cells after their rehabilitation class, but there were three others that were attempting the prison break too.”

“Rehabilitation?” This topic piqued Hermione’s curiosity, as she was always one to promote social reform.

“Yes,” Harry hissed through grit teeth. “To get them ready to assimilate back into society. They’ve given more freedom in the prison. And ‘good citizenship’ lessons, which is really just teaching them basic human decency.” He rolled his eyes.

“But how did the other three get out of their cells?” McGonagall redirected the conversation back to the rest of what Harry had revealed.

“Dunno,” Ron answered. “Before we knew it they were rushing us. By the looks of it afterwards when we went through the cells it just looked like the spring inside the lock had been bent back to let the door open. But they don’t have anything in the room that could let them bend the metal the way it was.”

“Wandless magic?” Hermione’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

“Who is good enough in there to use wandless magic like that? And why haven’t they attempted before if they could?” McGonagall asked sharply. She had taught most of the wizards and witches who were now currently held imprisoned in Azkaban and didn’t know of any that were strong enough in their skills to use intricate wandless magic. In fact, if anyone had been skillful enough to pull it off, it would have been Bellatrix Lestrange, but why hadn’t she?

“Maybe they’ve been trying for awhile…Maybe it’s taken a while but by now they’ve had years of practice.” Ron’s eyes were wide like he’d seen the ghost of Voldemort as this idea dawned on him.

“They’re not allowed visitors, are they?” McGonagall questioned, continuing to move the conversation along.

“That’s the thing, some of them _are_ allowed visitors. The prisoners not under a murder charge can receive visitors once every three months,” Harry growled.

 “Can’t you just use Legilimens, Potter, to review the evening?” Snape finally chimed in.

“We’re not allowed to under the new Wizengamot rules. It states that it’s too much of a violation, ‘a mental assault,’” Harry’s voice was strained, visibly frustrated by the changes in Azkaban’s policies. From across the room Hermione saw Snape roll his eyes and frown.

“So what can we do in the future to make sure this doesn’t happen again?” McGonagall’s voice was resolute.

“We could increase security there, but that’ll take more of our Aurors off the streets. The prison has been pretty secure the last few years, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk,” Robards shrugged. He didn’t seem as perturbed with the situation as Harry and Ron did.

“We _could_ hire more Aurors,” Ron insisted.

“It’s a possibility. Although there have been fewer and fewer applying for the position in the last couple of years. There doesn’t seem to be much interest anymore. I dunno why. It used to be one of the most sought after jobs.”

“You should review the visitor records, to see if that yields any insight,” Hermione offered as Harry and Ron nodded their heads.

“I have news,” Kinsley Shaklebolt announced, stepping out of the fireplace. All eyes turned towards him. “A Dementor was spotted by a couple of witnesses.”

“A Dementor?” cried McGonagall, gripping the edge of her desk.

“Afraid so. Two separate witnesses reported it within the last hour. It was spotted around the time of the breakout attempt.”

“At Azkaban?” Snape asked, his eyebrows pinched.

“No, but flying along the shore of the North Sea. It appears to be just one. Both the sightings were around the town of Hartlepool. The good thing is we’ve been able to keep it pretty quiet. As far as I can tell, no one from _The Daily Prophet_ knows about it. And I’d like to keep it that way. No need to alarm the public or have anyone get any ideas and try to take advantage of the situation. Or try again,” Shacklebolt’s voice grew stern at the end of his sentence, his eyes warning the others in the room.

“So basically we know nothing,” Snape’s sardonic voice confirmed what everyone was thinking but what no one else wanted to vocalize.

“Basically,” Robards confirmed.

“Who were the five that attempted?”

“Richard Edwins, only been there a few months, got caught performing magic on Muggles. Alecto Carrow, Gregory Goyle senior, Albert Runcorn, and Elenora Pratt. It was Pratt and Edwins we were escorting from the rehabilitation room. Pratt was caught taking bribes in the Ministry,” Harry explained.

Hermione nodded, remembering the name come up from time to time as people suspected she was up to some shady business. She always seemed to have insider information on specific Ministry members that she used as leverage.

“Alecto, but not Amycus? Hmmm.” Snape looked pensive.

“It’s getting late, we should get back,” Robards stood up. “We just wanted you to be informed and we’ll continue to do so if we find out any new information.” He nodded at McGonagall. “Minister,” he addressed Shacklebolt, shaking his hand. Harry and Ron looked at Hermione longingly, both of them wishing the three of them worked together again. Ron reached out and squeezed her arm as he passed her, stepping into the fireplace.

“I will do the same, Minerva,” Shacklebolt assured her. He shook hands with Snape and Hermione, looking at her affectionately. “I sure miss having you as my assistant. I hope teaching is treating you well.”

“It is, sir, but I miss you too.”

McGonagall finally dropped into her chair. “Well…I guess it’s not possible to have more than a few years’ peace, is it?” She looked frazzled and absolutely exhausted.

* * *

“I don’t feel like I’m going to be able sleep at all tonight,” Hermione said as she and Snape descended the staircase from McGonagall’s office.

“I will be having a nightcap. Join me if you wish.”

Hermione felt amused by his awkward invitation. “Ok, but just for awhile. I _need_ to sleep. I’m having a review session with my 5 th years tomorrow to prep for their O.W.L.’s and since a lot of them play Quidditch it has to be an early morning session.” She followed him down to the dungeons, wondering if it should feel weird joining him late at night, with alcohol involved. But it didn’t feel weird. It felt normal.

Ushering her into his private room he asked what she preferred to drink. He had just about everything in stock, she discovered. “A glass of Pinot Noir please.” She wandered over to his bookshelves to occupy herself. She found he had all sorts of academic and fictional books, penned by both Wizard and Muggle authors. She admired them, running her index finger across the spines as she read the titles.

“Do you need a sleeping potion?” He handed her the glass of red wine.

“No.” Hermione didn’t want to admit that she had reoccurring nightmares.

“Dreamless Drought?  Are you having nightmares?” He seemed to read her mind. _Oh shit, maybe he HAS read my mind._ She turned away from him quickly, remembering Harry’s words: _“We’re not allowed to use Legilimency under the new Wizengamot rules. It states that it’s too much of a violation, a mental assault.”_

“No…” she answered just a little too slowly, too hesitantly. He could see right through her.

“Not very convincing, Ms. Granger.”

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly.

He seated himself in the armchair, looking rather austere as the light of the fire made shadows across his face. He reminded Hermione of the Byronic Hero archetype, in fact, the more she thought about, the more she realized he pretty much _was_ the Byronic Hero incarnate.

“Do you find it odd that there was a Dementor spotted, when no one has seen one since the battle?” Hermione asked as she settled onto his sofa.

Snape swished the dark liquid around in his glass. Hermione had seen him grab the bottle of Firewhisky she had gotten him for his birthday, which pleased her.

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it? They’ve all but disappeared since they were banished from Azkaban, having to relocate and find a new home. I was sure they’d stay somewhere near, maybe even continue to haunt us, but until now there hasn’t been a trace of them.”

“Do you think they’re trying to reclaim Azkaban?”

“Possibly. It was their home for centuries.”

“Are you worried?”

He paused for a moment before answering. “I prefer a balanced approach when dealing with news and events as we’ve had tonight. It seems as though most people crave sensationalism now. The drama it brings. The power fear-mongering brings. And so I prefer to take information in slowly, digest it, _think_ , _analyze_ , and not jump to conclusions. Was tonight a spontaneous event? It doesn’t sound like it, but we don’t really know. We don’t have much evidence. And so I will be cautious and alert. But I refuse to waste time cowering.”

Hermione hung on every word he said, mesmerized by the way he spoke and expressed his thoughts. She savored the wisdom of his words, soaking them in and embedding them in her memory. _I want to think like him. I want to express myself like he does. I want to be like him._

“That’s very true and advice I needed to hear.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m sure you’re just as tired of all this as Minerva is. I mean, _I’m_ tired and I didn’t have to face the First Wizard War.”

“Indeed.” _I’m tired of everything,_ but he would not confess that out loud.

For a few minutes they sat watching the fire, listening to it as it crackled. Soon the wine made her drowsy. She finished the last few sips of it and gave him a heavy lidded smile, which made him shift nervously in his chair.

“You better head out before I’m forced to take you to bed.” Instantly his cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes grew large, mortified with what he had just let come out of his mouth. When he said it he had imagined flinging her over his shoulder and carrying her like a fireman, in a rather comical way. But the way it came out seemed to imply something much different. He didn’t say anything else, for fear that his voice would crack or he’d say something else to embarrass himself.

Luckily, she was just tired enough that his comment went over her head. She handed him her glass. “Yes, this nightcap seemed to work very well, thank you for it. Goodnight Professor.” She let herself out as he stood by his chair awkwardly.   
“Goodnight Ms. Granger,” he said faintly.

* * *

Harry and Ron had gone to the Auror training room at the Ministry, practicing their agility and spells on a simulation. Sweat dripped down the sides of Harry’s face, his hair even more disheveled than usual. He screamed out in frustration, startling Ron.

“What is it?”

“We can’t let this happen again! Not again!” Harry yelled, his face distorted. It reminded Ron of the times Voldemort was inside Harry’s head.

“We don’t know what’s going on. And it’s not like last time.”

“It’s the Malfoys, I just know it.”

“No, you _don’t_. The Malfoys haven’t been doing much of anything since the war, other than Draco getting a job at Gringotts.”

“Exactly, they’re laying low. They’re up to something.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Listen, I don’t like the Malfoys anymore than you do, you know that, but there’s no evidence that they had anything to do with the other night.”

“If only I could do Legilimens. I really think these Wizengamot policies are too restrictive. How are we supposed to get anything done?!” Harry ground his teeth together, pacing. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the prison. I want to look for more evidence.”

“Look for _any_ evidence,” Ron corrected him. Harry shot him a furious look over his shoulder, stomping away. Ron swallowed his own frustration, grabbing his duffle bag, and followed his best friend out.

* * *

Hermione and Snape began to spend more and more time together. At first they just talked about books or classes, usually at mealtimes, sometimes meeting in the library. Then, in early February, they had the same Saturday free, the first they shared since the term began. Hermione had planned to spend most of the day catching up on grading, but at breakfast Snape asked her if she wanted to accompany him to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and, of course, she wasn’t going to turn that offer down. He was all business in London, though she wouldn’t have minded if they had stayed longer, stopping in at other stores in Diagon Alley or having lunch at a café. She didn’t tell him this, however, but dutifully followed him around the Apothecary and then back to Hogwarts.

That afternoon they worked down in the Potions classroom, at first restocking Madam Pomfrey’s low supplies. Then he asked if she wanted to experiment with him, which delighted her to no end. Snape’s variation of the boils cure had proved successful, Grawp’s rash was gone and although he was still a bit lethargic, he was back on his feet and eating again. So they worked on a variation of the Elixer to Induce Euphoria because Snape wanted to get rid of the “excessive singing” side effect, which made Hermione giggle.

Then he asked her to help brew a large supply of Scar Diminishing Salve, of which he had also slightly altered. “I’ve added aloe vera to it, because in large quantities it began to burn my skin.”

“This is for you?” she sounded surprised as she stirred in the fairy wings and lemon juice it required.

“Indeed,” his voice seemed to purr, which Hermione found comforting. She looked at him, wondering what scars he had, but then imagined he could have quite a few hidden underneath all his layers of clothing. Only his face and fingers were bare.

“You can have some too, if you’d like.” He didn’t look at her, but continued to measure out the ingredients.

“Oh,” Hermione dropped her gaze and stared in the cauldron as he added the aloe vera leaves, which sizzled as they combined with the lemon juice. Instinctively she reached up to touch her neck and the scar it bore just below her ear. “I’ve never really thought about using something on it. My hair usually covers it.”

“It’s up to you, but I’ll leave you some.”

“Thank you.” She looked at him thoughtfully, knowing now that he must have a similar scar on his own neck. But why such a large quantity of the salve?

“Do you store this up for a long period of time?”

“Yes and no. I have multiple scars I’d like to get rid of. It’s taking some time, it seems.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“I’m just sorry you’ve had to deal with the pain of receiving those scars and having them long term.”

He removed the cauldron from the heat and began preparing the flobberworm mucus to add as the last ingredient. “This will smell wonderful when it’s done. Like a field of flowers.” He gave her a tight lipped smile and she returned it with one of her own.

He acted very formal towards her the whole day, but Hermione felt relieved and happy that they were moving away from their former animosity. Finally, after hours of working together Hermione’s stomach grumbled loudly. “Sorry,” she said, flushing with embarrassment. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now nearly dinner.

“Don’t be,” was all he said, but he began cleaning up, waving his wand to set unused ingredients back on the shelves. She cleaned out the cauldrons.

“I wonder what they’re serving for dinner,” she said as they made their way out of the classroom.

“Thankfully Mr. Mullins has given up his protestations and we’re allowed to eat poultry again.” His lips quirked into a half smile.

Hermione chuckled, remembering the first night of the school year when McGonagall had announced the student’s intention to save the birds from becoming part of the meal plan after getting transfigured into a bird by his older brother. It had been a nice surprise to see him munching on a turkey leg when he returned to school after Christmas break.

They entered the Great Hall, noticing everyone had already started eating. The only two seats open on the dais were on opposite ends of the table and Hermione found herself feeling sad she wasn’t going to get to sit by Snape that night. They reluctantly parted ways and for the briefest moment Hermione thought Snape looked just as disappointed as she felt.

* * *

Hermione flipped through the newest edition of _The Practical Potioneer_ glancing at Oliver several times. He didn’t notice, however, he was engrossed in reading _Seeker Weekly_ as he sat on the other end of the sofa.

“I’m ready to talk now,” Hermione said, her voice firm with resolve.

He looked at her with a confused expression. “Huh?”

“I’m ready to talk…about marriage…and stuff now,” she said more hesitantly this time.

“Oh, uhm, ok,” he closed the magazine and pushed it away on the coffee table. He sat up and turned to her, his eyes hinting at a bit of anxiety and vulnerability. He waited for her to say more, while she waited for him to delve into the topic.

“So?” she finally asked after an awkward pause.

He cleared his throat. “Right. So…Umm…Yeah, so…”

Hermione winced as he struggled to form a complete sentence.

“You said…last time you said that you’d be open to it in the future?” He was able to finally articulate.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Oh, yeah, ok.”

_This is going terribly_ , Hermione thought dismally. She assumed he’d at least have something prepared to say since it was _his_ idea to discuss the topic. He stared at his hands as they hit another lull in the conversation.

“The thing is, I _know_ I want to get married someday,” he looked up at her, his eyes soft and gentle. “And kids, I definitely want kids. A few. Like 3 or 4.”

Hermione felt her heart drop, she wasn’t sure if she wanted kids. She couldn’t say no, but she couldn’t say yes either.

“And,” he continued, “I don’t want to wait forever. I mean, I’m in my late 20s now. I’d like to start a family…soonish.”

Now it was her stomach’s turn to react, it chose to churn. She felt a bit dizzy. She had no idea he felt this way.

“Before you I’ve never felt like seriously settling down. But, I don’t know, it feels different now. And my parents were in their mid 20s and only dated for a year and they’ve been incredibly happy for over 30 years.” He ran his hand through his brown hair.

“My parents didn’t get married until their early 30s, so it’s just always seemed natural to wait,” Hermione responded. “I’m trying to see it from your perspective and I think I kind of understand, with you being a few years older and all. But I guess, to me, it seems like we’re rushing a bit. And…I don’t know about kids. I can’t say ‘no, never’ but I wasn’t planning on having them for a few more years. I’m terrified to be a mother. I always feel so awkward around kids and they never seem to like me much.”

“I get that,” Oliver said reasonably. “I think I could wait longer for kids and not rush that part so much, if we were to take the step of marriage at least.”

“I just…I don’t yet. I’m sorry. I know you want me to say more, I just…I guess it was good to know what you were thinking, since we’ve never really talked about it.”

“I just think that if you can’t decide by this summer what we’re doing then I’m not sure we’re really on the same page. Where are we headed? I want to be headed somewhere. I want to be pursuing a goal.”

“So you’re giving me an ultimatum?” She had a bitter taste in her mouth as she said this.

“I just want us to be on the same page. You know, to make sure we have the same goals. I don’t want to spend years dating to have it go no where.”

She supposed after a year of dating, her most significant relationship to date, that they _should_ be making sure they were on the same page at this point.

“Ok.” She felt confused. She didn’t feel like he was pressuring her into marriage per se, but she wished it had been a more gradual conversation. She needed time to think. She needed space to think. “I love you, I really do. Please know that,” her voice was quiet, just above a whisper and she had tears in her eyes now.

“I know that. And you know I love you too. We just need to figure things out so we’re not wandering aimlessly.”

She only nodded in response.

* * *

Soon it was mid March and almost half way through the second term. Professors and students alike were gearing up for final projects and tests. There were some nights when Hermione worked until midnight, grading or writing last minute assignments and lessons. Things in the wizarding world had calmed down since January, with no further breakout attempts at Azkaban. But the Aurors had yet to find any evidence or figure out just what had happened. Hermione began to wonder if they should be allowed to use Legilimency on the prisoners to get some answers.

Hermione and Snape were back at the Hog’s Head that Saturday evening in mid March. Hermione began to suspect that McGonagall was intentionally arranging their days off to align more and more. This was the 4th weekend in the last two months they shared a day off duty.

“I’m surprised you want to spend your Saturday evening at a dimly lit and unexciting bar.” Snape stared at Hermione, his dark eyes boring into her.

“I don’t mind it here,” she answered nonchalantly, except nothing about her preparation for their night out had been nonchalant. She had taken a long shower, scrubbing her skin thoroughly, paying special attention to her face and scalp. She chose her clothes more carefully than she normally did and spent just a bit more time fixing her hair. She wore a pale pink satin blouse and black blazer, paired with straight leg black slacks and nude colored high heels. She straightened her hair and put it in a low ponytail, pulling out a few strands to frame her face. She decided, however, on minimal makeup. She still remembered his words at the Christmas party. And even though he had redacted them, she was still scared a part of him believed she was shallow and obsessed with her appearance.

She tried to read his reaction when she met up with him, but his face remained as stoic as ever. They apparated to Hogsmeade so that she didn’t have to walk all the way in her heels. She knew her shoes were incredibly impractical, and normally she hated heels, but for some reason she wanted to wear them tonight. And when part of her told herself to analyze why she was making these choices she ignored it. She was afraid of what she might discover about herself.

They were sitting at the same table as the first time they came to Hog’s Head. It had been almost an hour. He was on his second drink and she was finishing up her first. They had been talking about a myriad of topics, losing track of the time. She was beginning to think of him as not _just_ a friend, but a _good_ friend. She found that Ginny had been correct; they did have a lot in common. And their differences only seemed to strengthen their relationship.

* * *

He didn’t want to notice her. Even if they were becoming friends he preferred to think of her as an asexual being; not the girl she once was, but definitely _NOT_ an attractive young woman.

So he tried _not_ to notice her as she met him in the dungeons before heading to Hogsmeade. He tried _not_ to notice her smooth skin, the small faint freckles across her cheeks and nose, the way she had arranged her hair, her thin legs, the shiny lip gloss on her lips.

He tried _not_ to notice the way she bit her lower lip sometimes when she was thinking; the way she self consciously moved her hand in front of her mouth every time she took a drink; or the gold flecks in her brown eyes; or the way she laughed with abandon when he told her a story about the time he had an experiment go wrong and nearly caught all his hair on fire. He tried _not_ to remember her sleepy smile the other night in his room, the way her eyes relaxed and softened, the way her cheeks were flushed pink.

And he tried _not_ to notice the way she intently listened to him. It made him uneasy. He didn’t want to trust her. He didn’t want to believe that someone other than Minerva would ever value him; would willingly want to be around him. He didn’t want to get hurt again.

He needed to get a grip. He needed to step back. He needed to be more cautious. _And for God’s sake keep Granger at arm’s length._ They could be acquaintances. They could be just friends, if that’s what this was, but just barely.

* * *

“But surely there’s somewhere else you’d rather be on your night off,” his tone was flat, his eyes guarded.

She merely shrugged. “I really don’t mind it here. I mean, otherwise I’d probably just be hanging out in my bedroom, reading or grading. Or maybe a cozy little coffeeshop.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “No chic London bar or nightclub, then?”

An idea popped into Hermione’s mind. She considered it briefly, assessing if it would be a good idea or go terribly wrong. “Do you trust me?”

He looked at her skeptically, his eyes narrowing as they often did. “I haven’t decided.”

Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I have an idea, but you have to agree to it without knowing all the details.”

His eyes were so narrow now he was squinting.

“Come with me and promise to stay for at least 30 minutes, that’s all. Then we can leave if you want.”

“Where?”

“I’m not telling. You just have to agree to those conditions. 30 minutes and not a minute longer, unless, of course, you want to stay longer.” Her eyes were intense as she waited for him to respond.

He couldn’t decide. She held out her hand, expecting him to acquiesce. Finally he grabbed it and she stood up. The minute he followed suit she apparated them, quickly twisting her body, her mind focused on their destination.

 

* * *

  **Chapter 8 Teaser-**

“Well it seems like we both have a lot to figure out,” Hermione leaned back on her elbows again, trying to appear casual, but inside her heart a storm raged. She felt confused about one too many things and she didn’t like it at all.

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, the kudos, & subscribing!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP, but if I did, there would have been more Luna Lovegood moments and a different “post-battle” ending for her…and for someone else ;) Sorry, Scamander, I’m sure you’re a very nice guy…
> 
> This chapter picks up immediately where Chapter 7 left off.

Neville spit the mouthful of beer back into his glass the minute he saw Hermione and Snape walk into the nightclub bar. Harry and Ginny were lucky enough it went back into his glass and not all sprayed all over them. Their eyes followed his; Harry’s reaction was similar to Neville’s: complete shock. But Ginny smirked, amused by the sight.

“What in the bloody hell?” Neville gasped.

Ginny turned her attention back to him. “What? They’re friends now, haven’t you heard?” She shrugged one shoulder.

“They’re…they’re _friends_?!” Neville cried out.

“Yeah. They’re working at Hogwarts together. He’s probably the only professor not over 50 years old. He’s the unsung hero. What’d you expect?” Ginny answered casually while Harry and Neville continued to gape at Hermione and Snape. She sipped her drink and smiled at Hermione and Snape as they crossed the bar towards them, their faces filled with caution.

“You’ll both be nice or keep your mouths shut, you got it?” Ginny warned the guys, looking like Molly all the times she used to reprimand the twins.

* * *

 _Hopefully this wasn’t a mistake_ , Hermione thought nervously the minute they entered the bar. She knew her friends would be here at Society Lounge on a Saturday night. This was their popular hangout spot and she remembered Ginny saying Harry was off work this weekend. Snape walked a step behind her. She was sure that he’d renege on the agreement and flee at any moment.

“Well hello,” Ginny grinned slyly at Hermione, raising her eyebrows. 

“Hey,” Hermione replied, her eyes pleading with her friend to help put their former professor at ease.

“Professor, it’s good to see you,” Ginny looked around Hermione at Snape. “Can we get you a drink?”

Hermione could tell how stiff Snape was, still standing slightly behind her. _At least I can rely on Ginny to be civil,_ she thought as she observed Harry and Neville’s aghast looks. When Snape’s deep voice broke through her thoughts it made her jump a little.

“A Moscow Mule, please.”

Ginny gave a curt nod. “You?” she jutted her chin at Hermione.

“A Long Island, thanks.”

Again Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Really? I’ve never seen you drink a Long Island before.”

“Yeah, I’ve had one at a party once.” Hermione raised her chin, trying to appear confident with her choice.

Hermione gave Snape a weak smile before turning to address the guys. “So, how’s it going?” She propped an arm up on the bar counter, trying to appear completely at ease with the situation.

“Uh, hey, um, good,” Harry stammered. Neville stood awkwardly, trying to look everywhere except at Professor Snape.

Snape looked around the nightclub as Hermione carried on conversation with her friends. It was a posh London nightclub for wizards and witches, charmed into the back of an abandoned building in a Muggle neighborhood. Everyone seemed to be in their 20s and 30s, but he saw a few older people that might be in his age range. There was a small dance floor and stage, currently lit up with colorful flashing disco lights as a jukebox blasted pop music. Snape found it curious that Hermione would choose to spend an evening with him at the shabby Hog’s Head rather than here with her friends. He looked around, but didn’t see Oliver. In fact he hadn’t seen Oliver since before the holidays. _Interesting._ Ginny returned, passing the drinks off to Snape and Hermione.

“Thank you Ginevra,” Snape said quietly.

Ginny winced at being called her birth name. “Please, call me Ginny.” She looked at him pointedly and then quickly turned away, her long red hair flying through the air. “Let’s move over here,” Ginny called out over her shoulder as she led the group towards a table in the center of the room.

Harry watched wearily from across the table at how close Hermione and Snape were sitting and the way she smiled at him. Ginny kicked Harry under the table when she noticed he was glaring at the two.

“So…umm how are you enjoying teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, professor?” Ginny tried to make her voice as relaxed as possible.

“Glad to finally have the subject I always asked for.”

“We actually have a few older students who are hoping to become Aurors,” Hermione addressed the guys, hoping to bring them into the conversation. Neville only nodded, staring down at his drink.

“Good, we can use the help,” Harry responded curtly.

An awkward silence fell over the table.

“Ehm…oh, I think I see Seamus over there. I, uh…” Neville walked away stiffly.

“It must be nice to have the night off,” Ginny tried to stimulate some conversation again.

“Yeah, I was just telling the guys that we were at Hog’s Head and he was teasing me about it not being chic enough for me, so I brought him here.”

Harry rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Ginny plays professional Quidditch now.” It was now Hermione’s turn to try a conversation topic.

“Oh?” Snape feigned interest.

“Yep, for the Holyhead Harpies.”

Snape only gave a couple of slight nods, his eyes still moving around the room. Another awkward silence ensued.

“You wanna dance?” Ginny asked Harry, her eyes making it clear that the answer better be yes, and Harry took a quick swig to finish off his beer and nodded. Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and led him out the dance floor among a small gathering of other clubbers. The pop music’s heavy bass set the tempo for the dancers. Hermione and Snape watched on from their high top table, Hermione smiling fondly at her friends, a grimace on Snape’s face.

“So, Ginny and Potter?” He couldn’t help but to practically spit out Harry’s name. Would he ever be able to say it without grimacing?

Hermione nodded, grinning. The couple, like many others on the dance floor, danced unabashedly. Hermione was happy to see her friends so carefree after their teenage years had been ripped away from them.

“Yep. The wedding’s in June.” She glanced at Snape. He watched the couple with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

“And Ron?”

“He’s working tonight.”

“I always thought the two of you would get together,” he murmured. Hermione couldn’t be sure, but by the tone of his voice it sounded as if that idea really annoyed him. And she clearly misunderstood his question about Ron.

“Noooo. _That_ would be weird. He’s like a brother.” She pulled a face, sticking out her tongue and shifted in her seat. Her uncomfortable response almost made Snape chuckle. _Almost._

“No. Ron’s quite the ladies’ man, actually.” She tugged at the ends her black blazer’s sleeves.

He held up a hand. “Please, spare me the details.”

She laughed lightly and sipped her Long Island, giving him a furtive side glance. The cool alcohol felt smooth in her throat and brought out her playfulness.

“Not everyone is as celibate as you.” She said with a sly smile, her eyes now trained on Harry and Ginny on the dance floor again.

His dark eyes flashed. _Does everyone think I’m some kind of monk?_ The thought annoyed him, simply because it wasn’t true, at least in regard to sexual experience. He would need to enlighten her.

“Hello everyone,” a soft, airy voice rang out from behind them.

“Luna!” Hermione cried, swiveling around and jumping off her bar stool. She threw her arms around the blonde girl’s neck. “When did you get back?”

“Luna!” Ginny echoed, pushing through the dancers impeding her way. She, too, threw her arms around the blonde. Luna was wearing an oversized yellow sweater and periwinkle coloured harem pants that reminded Hermione of the American TV show _I Dream of Jeannie_ that she used to watch as a little girl. The pants had white stitched Hippogriffs from her waist to her ankles in rows around her legs. Hermione spotted Luna’s quintessential radish earrings through the strands of her waist length silky curls.

“Just today. I was unpacking and thought maybe you’d all be down here.” She surveyed the group, seemingly looking for someone in particular.

“Luna’s been doing Magizoology research in South Africa for the last 9 months,” Hermione explained to Snape as she returned to her seat next to him.

“Ahh.”

“Professor Snape,” Luna acknowledged him with a fond smile. “I felt as if I would see something mind boggling tonight. In fact my tealeaves from earlier told me I’d run into a snake today. I thought for sure they meant in daddy’s garden, but I never saw a single one. And now the day is almost over, but I suppose you, being a Slytherin, are that snake.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, shooting a quick glance at him to see how he would respond.

Snape raised his eyebrows. “Mind boggling indeed.”

“Snakes aren’t always a bad thing to have around, most people are afraid of them, but they can be very useful in keeping away unwelcome guests, like the gingernimps that used to plague daddy’s garden.”

Snape bowed his head, playing along with Luna’s ideas. “I’ve always excelled at keeping others away, so I suppose there is great truth in what your tealeaves revealed.” He turned to Hermione and gave her a knowing look to which she just shook her head.

“Luna.” Neville’s face was pale as he and Harry joined the group.

“Oh, hello, there,” Luna said, smiling at him sweetly.

He gulped. “When did you get back?”

“Just today,” she repeated, her eyes transfixed on his. The two seemed to enter an unspoken trance.

“I…I…” he stammered. Harry and Ginny groaned and rolled their eyes. Harry reached out and gave Neville a gentle push towards Luna. “Well get on with it you two. Kiss her already, dammit!” Ginny giggled.

Neville didn’t kiss her, but he did grab her hands. “I’m glad you’re back,” he found his voice, looking deeply into her eyes. “How long are you back for?” He gave her a cautious look.

“For awhile. I’m done with my research for now. Daddy is happy to have me back at home to help him with _The Quibbler_ and gardening.”

“Good.” Neville smiled with relief.

Hermione leaned closer to Snape. “So, they’ve been doing the whole ‘will they, won’t they?’ bit for years now. He was a bit scared of her when he first met her, but they became good friends when we formed Dumbledore’s Army and ever since our last year of school he’s just been head over heels for her. They’ve gone on a few dates, but nothing serious. She’s been pretty absorbed in her research. But, I mean, there’s no denying it,” Hermione gestured at the two of them, who now had their foreheads pressed together, smiling tenderly. “They _adore_ each other. It’s only a matter of time before they get serious.”

Snape nodded thoughtfully, without looking disgusted by her friends’ love lives, which surprised Hermione.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to head back,” she whispered, leaning her head even closer to Snape’s.

“I was really glad when I found out you survived, Professor Snape.” Luna had broken away from Neville now and had actually laid a hand on Snape’s lower arm as she addressed him. Startled, Snape looked into her eyes, his Legilimency skills faintly picking up on some of her thoughts, even though he wasn’t trying to penetrate her mind. _She really means it._ “It would have been a tragedy to lose someone so gifted with potions and so important to the Order. Daddy agrees,” Luna continued, her voice serene.

Everyone else watched the exchange carefully. Hermione felt intense warmth radiate from her heart at Luna’s sweet words. _This is exactly what Snape needs to hear._

He merely bowed his head low in acknowledgment, his hair falling in front of his face, acting as a curtain to hide any emotion that might slip across his features.

“Hermione, you’re positively glowing with happiness. You look prettier than a Veela,” Luna addressed her now.

“Oh, gosh,” Hermione ran a hand over the side of her head, touching her hair, ear, and the scar on her neck lightly. “I…thanks, Luna.” She blushed.

Ginny caught Snape turn his still bowed head ever so slightly to peer at Hermione through the gap in his curtain hair.

“Are you two dating now?” Luna asked innocently.

Hermione’s blushed deepened. “No,” she said loudly, laughing nervously. “We’re friends…you know, since I teach at Hogwarts now. I’m still dating Oliver.”

“Who’s Oliver?”

“Oliver Wood? I was dating him before you left. Plays Quidditch. A few years older than us?”

“Right,” Luna said, but her expression showed she still had no recollection of Hermione’s boyfriend. Luckily for Snape and Hermione she turned her attention back towards Harry and Ginny, now admiring Ginny’s engagement ring.

“Ok, _I’m_ ready to go now,” Hermione gave Snape an apologetic look. She bid her friends farewell, giving each a quick hug and promising lunch with the girls soon. The minute they walked out of the club Hermione began apologizing profusely. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“For what, Granger?”

“For dragging you here, for the guys’ awkward behavior, for Luna…being, well, Luna.”

“I thought her quite pleasant, tealeaves and intrusive questions aside.” He gave Hermione a tight lipped smile.

“Well, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For trying something new.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve never been to a nightclub, Granger?”

“Oh…I…you don’t seem much like a nightclub type person, sorry.”

“I was young once.”

“Right.”

“The Death Eaters liked to frequent bars and clubs…places I doubt you’d ever visit.”

“Oh?” Hermione’s interest was piqued.

“I can’t even imagine the expression on your face if I took you to a club Lucius took me to once…horror, probably.”

“A strip club?!” she cried out.

He raised an eyebrow in response.

“Wow…” she wrapped her arms around her, starting to shiver in the March night air.

“Shall we disapparate now?” They had reached a dark alleyway. She nodded and grabbed hold of his arm, her mind bubbling over with a list of questions about Snape’s past. 

* * *

“I know you’re upset with me, Albus, but you can stop staring daggers at me all the time.” McGonagall adjusted her dress skirt and robe before sitting down at her desk, her back to Dumbledore’s portrait.

“I’m not mad, merely concerned, Minerva.”

“Well you shouldn’t be,” she said sharply, arranging some papers on her desk, her lips pursed.

“I just don’t understand what your plan is.”

“My _plan_ has always been to subtly guide them, never to manipulate the situation.”

“Yes but-“

“Albus, please. I can’t be a slave to Trelawney’s prophecy. It’s not fair to me. And the situation will play out how it intends to anyway, so anything I do or don’t do won’t make any major changes to it.” After a pause she continued, her voice more gentle now. “I’m _tired_ , Albus. I’ve been at this for decades. I’m almost 100 years old. I need some rest.”

“I know,” Dumbledore said quietly. She turned to face him now, looking up at his portrait.

“I believe I’ve set them on a good, steady course. The rest is up to them. Fate has to work itself out.”

“And still no word from Robards on what happened at Azkaban?”

“Afraid not.”

“The prophecy is beginning.”

“I know.” McGonagall looked out her window into the night sky longingly.

* * *

Hermione laid wide awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. _This summer. Oliver wants to know by this summer_. She didn’t want to think about his ultimatum, but she knew she needed to sort out her feelings. That gave her at least two more months to think through what she wanted in life. She didn’t want to break up. He was nice. But was that all she wanted? Someone who was nice? What else did she want in a long term partner? Intelligence. Wit. A deep thinker, someone who challenged her; she was tired of always having to be “the one with all the answers.” Someone who was nuanced and layered, someone who was a bit mysterious, someone who had more to them than meets the eye. Someone who wouldn’t make fun of her love for books and academic subjects. She wanted someone she could look up to, who had a commanding presence, but wasn’t too dominating. Someone with whom she could enjoy quiet, uneventful days.

She thought of the physical attributes of her love interests. Apparently she was most attracted to dark eyes, all four men she had been involved with had brown or black eyes. Now that she thought about it, she preferred darker hair too; Krum, Alejandro, and Oliver all had pretty dark brown or black hair, although Thomas, her childhood friend she lost her virginity to, was a dark blonde. So dark hair and eyes. A decent height.

 _Whoa, slow down Hermione, there’s no such thing as Mr. Perfect_ , she chided herself sarcastically. Her list surprised her though. She had never really thought a lot about what she wanted in a partner, her mind had always been dedicated to her education and career.

But she put it from her mind. She needed to be grounded in reality, not in wishful fantasies. She needed to figure out how she felt about the things Oliver brought up. She did love Oliver. But she loved Harry, Ron, and Neville too. Was it really all that different with Oliver, other than the fact that she was physically attracted to him and not her other guy friends? But if they weren’t involved physically, would they really have that much of a relationship? Sure, it had been fun when they first started dating. She had liked being wooed and pampered by Oliver. And sure, they still had fun times. But again, she had fun with _a lot_ of people. What made Oliver all that different? And was the sex really that satisfying? It definitely wasn’t bad. She admired Oliver’s lean, muscular physique. In the first few months the sex had been passionate and more spontaneous, but lately it just felt like they were going through with a routine at times. _Maybe that’s normal?_ She wasn’t sure and didn’t really know who to talk to about stuff like this. She and Ginny never really talked about their sex lives, mostly because Hermione felt a little awkward finding out details about Harry, who was way too much like a brother to her.

She rolled over, flipping her curls over her shoulder with frustration. She just needed more time to figure things out. Why couldn’t they just let things be?

* * *

Ron and Harry read through the visitor list from the last year in the Azkaban records, _again_.

“George Lewis to visit his brother William, Cliff Jones to visit his legal client Marcus Jeffreys, Pansy Nott to visit her father Malvolio Parkinson, and Lionel Bradbury to visit his wife Lorna. No one from the Malfoy family.” Ron flipped through the earlier pages, running his index finger down it as he scanned the pages. “No Malfoys in the visitor records ever.”

Harry grunted. “Only by association.”

“Come again?”

“Pansy.” Harry pulled a face, showing his disgust for their former classmate and Draco’s former girlfriend.

“Not really association anymore though. They haven’t been together since 6th year. And she’s married off to Theodore Nott now.” Ron closed the large record book with a thud. “Plus her father died last summer, remember? He had that stroke and the Healers at St. Mungo’s couldn’t revive him?”

“Oh pity, the world’s lost another person who colluded with the Death Eaters and shared their pureblood ideology,” Harry said sarcastically. He scratched his head and his hair stuck straight up afterwards. “I still think we should tail Draco, just to be sure.”

“Fine, mate,” Ron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Gringotts it is,” Harry said, checking his watch. The two apparated to just outside the bank’s door. “What exactly does he do here?”

“I dunno, probably just a desk job, the Goblins don’t like hiring humans. Bill’s the only other human I’ve known who worked here.” Ron stared up at the building, shuddering with the thought of having to interact with Goblins on a daily basis.

The young men pushed open the heavy doors, scanning the place, easily locating Draco with his platinum blonde hair and being the only human within sight. He sat at one of the nearest desks, surrounded by Goblins who moved about with stoic faces. Draco looked bored as he played with his quill. He perked up when he noticed people approaching him, but his face quickly changed into disgust when he saw just who it was.

“What do you two want?” he asked as Harry and Ron took seats on the other side of the low desk.

“We want to ask you some questions for a current investigation.” Harry locked eyes with his former enemy.

“Whatever. Don’t waste my time, Potter.”

“We’d like to know your whereabouts the evening of Thursday, January 20th.”

“You can’t be serious. January 20th? It’s March 28th how do you expect me to remember what I was doing over 2 months ago?”

“ _Try_ to recall.”

“What are you investigating?”

“We don’t want to ruin the integrity of our investigation, so please, just answer the question and then we’ll be out of your hair. We don’t want our time to be wasted either.” Harry stared at Draco, his green eyes fierce.

Draco just shook his head. “I have no idea. Let me see what I had on my calendar.” He pulled out a long horizontal piece of parchment and tapped it with his wand to reveal the schedule. “Thursday January 20th eh? I had a meeting in the afternoon with a few other financial advisors,” he looked grinning. “I’m up for a promotion soon, you see.”

“For what? From secretary to office manager?” Ron teased vindictively.

Draco narrowed his eyes and flushed slightly. “I’m _not_ a secretary-“

“Oh sorry, yes, that’s a very sexist title…ummm…administrative assistant?” Ron continued to bait the blonde.

Draco tapped his calendar again and threw it in the desk drawer, gritting his teeth. “For your information, in a few months I’ll also be a financial advisor, a position no other human has ever had here at Gringotts,” that snobbish demeanor of his younger years returning.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure daddy secured that job for you, just like old times.” Ron gave Harry a huge smile. “You see, _we_ ,” he pointed at Harry and himself dramatically, “don’t have dads anymore, so we had to get _our own_ jobs. It’s not that tough though. I encourage you to try it sometime.” Harry let out a laugh, looking around the room at the Goblins who worked quietly around them.

“Piss off.”

“Ah, but we still need to know what you were doing that _night_.”

“I went home-“

“Still living with mummy and daddy?”

Draco scowled. “ _Yes_. Now will you let me finish a sentence so you can get the fuck out of here?”

“Sure, go on.” Ron pretended to scribble down every word Draco said. Draco rolled his eyes.

“We had a quiet dinner. I went on a walk with mother around the gardens at our estate. Then I read a bit before bed. Does that satisfy the two of you tossers?”

“What was your father doing when you two were on a walk?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. I assume he was reading, as he usually does. My parents don’t really go out into society anymore.”

“Do you have any reason to visit Azkaban?”

“What? No, why would I?”

“Does your father…or mother?”

“Not that I know of, now will you please leave me alone?” Draco rubbed his head, staring at his desk.

“Very well,” Harry and Ron turned and left without another word to Draco, but outside the bank Harry pulled Ron aside. “Wait…I still have a funny feeling. Let’s wait around for a bit.”

“Fine.” Ron put the little notepad back in his pocket. He knew well enough from their past that usually Harry’s intuition was onto something.

“You were great in there, by the way,” Harry praised his friend, slapping him on the back as they walked over to a café across the street. They sat by the window, sipping hot cocoas, keeping an eye on Gringotts.

“So…you know Hermione is starting to hang out with Snape, right?” Harry said quietly.

“What?!”

“Yeah, she even brought him to the Society Lounge the other night. Ginny acted like it was totally normal, but it was definitely weird.”

“Bloody hell.”

Harry laughed. “That’s exactly what Neville said.”

“That buggar hasn’t even mentioned it! The only thing he’s talked about in the last week is Luna this and Luna that. Walks around in a complete daze.” Ron shook his head, grimacing. “Hey, Draco’s leaving,” he nodded at the window.

They headed out of the café and followed him at a safe distance through Diagon Alley. Finally they saw him head into The Wizard’s Pourhouse, a newer restaurant that was known to be more upscale compared to The Leaky Cauldron.

“You’re wishing we had the invisibility cloak right about now, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded as knelt beneath a window. “We’re too conspicuous here, c’mon, let’s check around the side.” Harry led the way and they managed to find a window with a perfect view of the table Draco approached. They saw him greet and shake hands with two other former classmates of theirs: Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

Harry and Ron dipped down, crouching beneath the window. “Zabini and Nott.” Harry’s face was scrunched up in deep thought.

“Think the three of them could be in on something?” Ron asked.

“Possibly. The three were always gits and too close to the dark side.” Harry peered back into the window. The three seemed formal with each other, although amicable enough. Blaise wore a dark blue suit and light blue dress shirt underneath. He had barely aged in the last five years, still very tall and lean. Nott wore khaki pants and a striped polo. He had filled out since his scrawny teenage years and was now rather good looking with dark brown hair and olive skin.

Harry and Ron left fifteen minutes later; Draco’s lunch seemed uneventful and Harry and Ron needed to be back on duty at Azkaban. Harry mulled over what he knew about Zabini and Nott, which wasn’t much. Ron kicked at some small rocks that lined the street of Diagon Alley.  
“Are you even listening to me?” Harry jostled Ron out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry, mate. Distracted a bit.”

“I’ll say. Because of what I told you about Hermione and Snape?”

“Yeah. I just don’t have a good feeling about it. Why would she wanna hang out with him?”

“Dunno. And I don’t have a good feeling about Malfoy and his friends. I want to look up the records for Zabini and Nott when we get back to headquarters.”

It turned out that Zabini was now a junior wizard diplomat, who had already served as an attaché to wizard ministries in Colombia and Italy. Nott inherited his father’s fortune and estate, living quite comfortably with Pansy as his wife. Pansy seemed to be interning at the Daily Prophet, under the tutelage of Rita Skeeter, which made sense since Pansy had always been one for gossip, sensationalist drama, and half truths. Nott seemed to be relying on his inheritance alone, choosing not to be employed anywhere. 

* * *

Snape stared at his ceiling as sleep evaded him. Both his hands rested on his stomach, the bed sheets pulled neatly across his chest. He laid like this since his childhood years, his morose nature often leading him to imagine himself in a coffin.

Tonight he thought of Lily. He thought of her gentle sweetness and their childhood days. He thought about what life would have been like if she had chosen him, if she had loved him the way he loved her. Would he be a father? Would they have been happily married? Would they have even survived the Wizarding Wars? Or maybe he would have convinced her to run away with him to avoid it all. No, Lily would have stayed to fight, no matter what.

Would he still be in love with Lily if she were alive today? That was an odd thought. He supposed he would, but what if…?

He’d been with plenty of women since his older teenage years, but never in a serious relationship. One night stands or a few brief months of a casual fling, usually in the summer, were his style. No attachments. In the summers he preferred Muggles, he didn’t have to explain himself to them. They were easier. They didn’t know his past. There’d even been a couple of prostitutes in his younger days, at the behest of the Death Eaters, although that was not something he preferred.

Because of his lack of relationships he honestly didn’t know what he valued in a long-term mate. Intelligence. Someone who tried to understand him. Someone as stubborn as him. Someone who could challenge him and not back down when he challenged her, that would be important. He would enjoy someone who had a feisty personality, a bit of fire in her eye and a sharp tongue. Someone who was loyal…who didn’t give up on him the moment he said something stupid, because he was bound to say many stupid things. So an abundance of patience was definitely required. He wasn’t even sure Lily met most of those qualities, no matter the pedestal he had put her on his whole life.

As far as appearances went, he didn’t think he had a “type”. Lily had been a red head. The only red head he’d ever known, other than the members of the Weasley clan. But it wasn’t her hair or fair skin that attracted Snape so much to her, or else he’d find Ginny Weasley far more attractive. Snape had been with blondes and brunettes and darker witches. He did prefer longer hair though, he liked the look and feel of it. He steered away from women with green eyes, _that_ was something he couldn’t bring himself to move on from. He couldn’t imagine fucking another woman with green eyes staring back at him. He’d most likely slip up and cry out _her_ name, making a complete fool of himself.

But here he was in his 40s, the same lonesome bachelor, and life droned on. Like he had told Minerva, he didn’t know what he wanted in life. He didn’t know _how_ he would change it. He never wanted a serious, long-term relationship other than with Lily. But he was tired of feeling apathetic and he was tired of the monotony.

He turned over onto his side, yanking at the sheets in frustration. Maybe he should experiment with Granger to make a more powerful sleeping potion since the standard Sleeping Draught seemed to be utterly useless. 

* * *

Hermione didn’t want to agonize over Oliver’s ultimatum anymore. She’d made a pros and cons list, only to rip it up in frustration. It kept her awake at night. It made her irritable and distracted her from her grading.

So she began to distract herself from what was distracting her in the first place. She poured herself into helping Ginny with the wedding preparations, mostly by getting decorations ready in her spare time. She had the perfect excuse to start offering even more potion labs for her 5th and 7th year students, which diverted her attention away from Oliver. In fact, in the last month she had barely seen Oliver. She couldn’t even remember the last time they were intimate. It had been a couple of months for sure. It helped that he was very busy with Quidditch activities, so the excuses were not entirely hers.

She began to drink more, especially before bed, to help her unwind and sleep. _They’re just nightcaps, people have them all the time_ , she justified to herself. She wasn’t becoming an alcoholic by any means, but she’d never been one to drink, other than an occasional glass of wine or Butterbeer in a social setting, so this new habit was a bit out of the ordinary for her.

She also felt distracted by Snape. She caught him looking at her from across the room a couple of times and it made her stomach flutter. And one time she had caught Keighly and Sprout watching the two of them and whispering to each other after a staff meeting. Although she could only assume to know what they were talking about, she strangely felt pleased by their attention and had edged closer to Snape’s side, so close she could feel the warmth of his arm and their robes brushed against each other as they talked with Vector who had joined them. If Snape noticed her close proximity he hadn’t acted like he did. He didn’t moving away from her or look at her with that raised eyebrow. McGonagall smiled approvingly at her from across the room.

When he turned to leave, she left with him, still plastered to his side. She noted Keighly and Sprout’s eyes continuing to follow them, their heads bent together. Still, she didn’t seem to mind, even if they were gossiping. But then she also caught Trelawney watching them and that made her uneasy. She remembered Hagrid’s words the night she moved back into the castle. Trelawney was having prophecies that involved her and Snape. This caused Hermione to slow in the hallway. Snape turned back towards her when he noticed she wasn’t at his side anymore.

“I forgot I actually need to get something done…so…I better get back to my room,” she stammered out awkwardly.  

He bowed his head and bid her farewell.

_If only I could find out what Trelawney said!_

* * *

“Come out with us again this Saturday,” Hermione invited, her tone and eyes tinged with hope. “I saw we have another day off together,” she admitted.

“Yes, apparently Minerva seems intent on orchestrating our schedules to include shared free time.” In fact he was growing more and more curious about his and Hermione’s schedules. It had escaped his notice at the beginning of the second term, but was becoming more conspicuous as time went on. _What is Minerva up to?_ It wasn’t a matter of _if_ she was up to something, but rather what it was specifically. When he had brought it up at their last Saturday afternoon tea, she had only shrugged and asked if he wanted her to switch the schedule to give him a different day off. This offer threw him off and he rejected it. He didn’t necessarily _mind_ that he had free time with Hermione, he just wanted to know _why_.

“Please? I’ll do whatever you want to do next time.”

“Next time? You seem have a lot of confidence in the future of this relationship.”

“I do, because I think you actually enjoy spending time with me, even if you’d never admit to it.”

“So you’ll do _whatever_ I want to do?” They walked briskly down the hallway as students cleared way for them.

“Well…barring it’s safe…and legal,” she said, now nervous at what he insinuated.

He smirked. He had nothing specific in mind, but it was fun to mess with her mind.

He didn’t really want to go back to that nightclub, it was rather loud, nor spend more time with Potter and Longbottom, although he found Ginny and Luna tolerable enough. But he didn’t want to turn down an offer to spend more time with Hermione. She treated him like her equal and it was nice being sought after. S _o much for keeping her at arm’s length, stupid fool!_ He was furious at himself. _All you have to do is make sure SHE and everyone else thinks you’re keeping your distance._ That could be easy enough, he calmingly reassured himself.

* * *

“I’m a little tipsy,” Hermione broke into a fit of giggles as she leaned one arm on the table, looking at her friends. Ginny tried not to laugh at Snape’s befuddled expression.

“Yes, that’s quite apparent, Granger.” His words amused Hermione and she laughed so hard she almost fell over. He reached out a hand to steady her. Ginny looked at Luna and Neville with wide eyes, shaking her head, amazed by their friend’s behavior that night. _If only Harry and Ron were here to see this._

“Hey, everyone,” Oliver came up behind Hermione, giving a small wave to the rest of the tablemates. Neville and Luna shifted over to open up a seat for him. Hermione turned and gasped, before throwing her arms around his neck.

“Oh my god, Oliver is here! Everyone, look, Oliver is here!”

“She’s drunk, you let her get drunk,” he pretended to admonish the group, giving Ginny, in particular, a stern look. Hermione burst out laughing, garnering looks from a couple of people at the table next to theirs. “How many drinks has she had?” Oliver’s eyes were wide, partially amused and partially concerned. He’d never seen her like this.

“Dunno, we lost track,” Neville mumbled, drowning down the last of his beer.

“She’s had five or six,” Luna responded. “Don’t worry, we weren’t going to let her travel alone tonight. Professor Snape is here to take her back to Hogwarts.”

Oliver glanced at Snape curiously, looking over Hermione’s head. She now had one of her arms wrapped around Oliver’s lower back as she looked around the table trying to decide what she wanted to drink next.

“Hello, professor!”

“Good evening,” Snape replied quietly, not even looking at Oliver.

“I want a Pina Colada now!” Hermione’s eyes had settled on the drink in front of Ginny.

“Whoooa, there love, I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

“Hermione, here, share some of mine with me,” Ginny tried to mollify the situation when she saw Hermione pout angrily at Oliver.

“Fine,” she stomped past Oliver and around to the other side of Snape where she quickly began to suck down Ginny’s Pina Colada. She stopped gulping it only when she saw Snape turn to look at her. His glance wasn’t patronizing or judgmental. To anyone who didn’t know him, his face seemed blank, devoid of all emotion. But Hermione did know him. She had begun to understand him. And she could read the ever so slight trace of confusion in his eyes. She held eye contact and pulled her lips away from the straw. It was a brief interaction, but even in her drunken state Hermione could tell she needed to pull herself together.

“Alright, alright, we’re ready to open the mic and start the karaoke hour! The sign up sheet is going around so make sure you get one of the slots if you’re hoping to wow us all with a performance tonight. And remember, witch’s drinks are half price for the rest of the evening!”

Everyone cheered and many ladies raised their drinks in the air, celebrating the bartender’s announcement. The first karaoke singers stepped up onto the little platform stage choosing a song by the Weird Sisters.

Snape shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to get another drink,” he told Hermione and Ginny. “And hope I can drown out the sound of them,” he motioned at the stage with his chin, making the girls laugh.

Lavender and Parvati were up next, stepping onto the stage and sending flirtatious glances each other as the deep beat of a Beyoncé song came on.

“Ooooohhhh! I love this song!” Hermione squealed. Feeling complete abandon under the influence of alcohol, she jumped up on the stage to join her former classmates. The girls looked startled for a moment and then smiled as Hermione swayed with the music, someone holding a third mic up for her to use. She stood between Lavender and Parvati and began belting out the lyrics to the song, closing her eyes and throwing her movements into the song. Amazingly enough, their three voices harmonized pretty well, and made for a decent performance.

**_“We’ve found the truth beneath your lies_ **

**_And true love never has to hide_ **

**_I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crimes”_ **

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open now; she had a soft, serene look about her as she continued to let the music flow through her.

**_“My love was stronger than your pride_ **

**_Beyond the darkness I’m your life_ **

**_You get deep, you touch my mind”_ **

Oliver sat, beaming at her, a half smile playing at his lips. Hermione was focused on someone in the crowd, but, as Ginny noticed, it wasn’t Oliver. Ginny subtly followed Hermione’s gaze to the other end of the table, where Snape now stood, returning from the bar with another drink in his hand. 

**_“They say true love’s the greatest weapon_ **

**_To win the war caused by pain_ **

**_Every diamond has imperfections_ **

**_But my love’s too pure to watch it chip away_ **

**_Oh nothing real can be threatened_ **

**_True love breathes salvation back into me”_ **

Ginny snuck another glance at Snape. It was clear that Hermione was staring at him as she poured her heart into this song, even if the drunk girl didn’t realize it. Ginny found it a very curious thing. Snape looked uncomfortable, shifting every few seconds and avoiding eye contact with Hermione or anyone else for that matter. His face was stony.

**_“With every tear came redemption_ **

**_And my torturer became my remedy”_ **

Ginny continued to glance at both men on either end of the table. Oliver still had the lovestruck look in his eyes and Snape looked absolutely terrified now. Ginny was astounded that Hermione would be so bold as to stare at Snape as she sang these lyrics, especially with so many friends and Oliver around. She could tell Oliver wasn’t really paying attention to the lyrics and that Snape was picking up on them all too well.

The song ended and the three girls bowed dramatically, their arms wrapped around each other, smiling widely, as the crowd enthusiastically cheered for them.

“Thank you, thank you, we’ll be here all night!” Pavarti spoke triumphantly into the mic.

Hermione stepped off the stage, her face flushed now. A look of confusion replaced her smile, though, as she looked around their table. Ginny looked too, finding that Snape had disappeared.

“Hey love,” Oliver said, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “You were fantastic. I’ve never heard you sing outside of the shower before.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead as she continued to look around for Snape.

“Maybe he went outside,” Ginny offered. “It’s a bit hot in here, after all.”

Hermione nodded and smiled at the group, looking at Oliver sheepishly. The effect of the alcohol was beginning to wear off and she was slowly coming to her senses.

“That was so much fun, Hermione! We’ll definitely have to do that again,” Parvati said as she resumed her seat across the table, a fresh cocktail in her hand. Hermione only nodded distractedly.

“Excuse me,” she said. She stepped out into the cool night air, looking to her left and right. But Snape was no where to be seen.

Oliver escorted Hermione back to Hogwarts later that night, holding on to her tightly as they apparated back to her room. He made sure she was comfortably in bed before he kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight, flooing back to his London flat. Sleep came to her quickly.

Snape sat in the shadows of the Astronomy tower, staring up into the cloudless sky until it was almost dawn.

* * *

“I’m sorry, I’m sure I was a complete embarrassment last night,” Hermione apologized once she caught up to Snape in the hallway the next day. He didn’t come to breakfast, but she was able to track him down later that morning.

“I hardly think you were an embarrassment, Ms. Granger. The crowd seemed completely enthralled by your performance.”

“Well, I _don’t_ actually remember most of it. Kind of a blur, really. But I’m sorry if I embarrassed _you_ in particular. I feel like an idiot.” He hummed and continued walking. She stopped once he opened a door to head outside.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m assigned to watch the grounds during the Slytherin Quidditch practice because Madam Hooch has a prior engagement in London.” He stood in the doorway, holding it open with his body.

“Do you want some company?”

Did he? He wasn’t sure after last night. The lyrics of the song hit just a little too close to home for his comfort and, although she had been drunk, her fixation on him while performing it made him uneasy. But he also hated Quidditch and had forgotten to bring along a book, so he could use the company. He sighed.

“If you insist.” He wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t in need of her friendship.

They made their way up into the stands, the players warming up with a bit of light cardio exercises on the pitch. It was a beautiful late April day. Not a cloud in the sky, the temperature was just warm enough, and the fresh smell of springtime wafted through the air. Hermione leaned her elbows back onto the bench behind her, soaking in the sun. Snape sat, hunched over, his arms resting on his legs as he stared absentmindedly.

“Oliver told me he wants to get married.”

Immediately she flushed, her eyes wide with horror. She hadn’t even told Ginny this, why was she telling Snape? She sat up slowly and tried to get a read on his reaction without looking at him directly. He seemed to be doing the same with her.

“To you, I presume?”

“Yes, to me,” she said softly, looking down at her hands. The Slytherin team was now up on their brooms, getting into formations.

“Congratulations.” He said flatly. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“No, I mean, he didn’t propose. Not yet. But he wanted us to talk about it and he asked me to decide by this summer how I feel about getting married.” _God, why am I still telling him all this?_ She seemed unable to stop herself.

“I will have to get used to referring to you as Professor Wood,” the new title felt rough on his tongue.  

“I…I don’t know. I’m not saying ‘no, never’ to marriage. I just don’t understand why I have to decide now.”

 _So that explains her drinking habits last night_ ; her behavior suddenly made a little more sense to Snape. Their conversation lulled for a few minutes, both preoccupied with their own thoughts and neither seemed to mind the pause.

“Minerva has offered me the headmaster position.” Snape stared at the players whizzing through the air, his voice sounding distant to Hermione. She leaned forward to get a good look at him now and he met her eyes.

“Really? When?”

“Some months ago, actually.”

“She wants to leave?”

“She wants to retire. ‘To rest. To travel,’” he repeated the things she had told him before Christmas. It was the night she confronted him in his room about harassing Hermione after he caught Oliver in her room in the middle of the night. The night he had confessed that he felt aimless in life. “I was just as surprised as you seem now,” he continued. “It makes sense though. She’s dedicated so much of her life here, and lived through two wizard wars. She deserves a break.”

“So you’ve accepted the position?”

“Not yet. I was also thinking of leaving Hogwarts earlier this year.”

“You were?” Hermione looked hurt and he looked away quickly.

“I wasn’t going to teach again after the second war. Minerva really wanted me to come back. I did it for her. But I’m tired too. I have some savings. My summer home is paid off so I don’t have to worry about expenses there. I thought about taking a year off and then maybe finding a different job, perhaps outside of Great Britain. I’m not sure I want to stay at Hogwarts if she’s not going to be around,” he confessed. “She’s been my only friend the last few years.”

“I’m your friend now.”

“Indeed.”

“Well it seems like we both have a lot to figure out,” Hermione leaned back on her elbows again, trying to appear casual, but inside her heart a storm raged. She felt confused about one too many things and she didn’t like it at all.

* * *

“Flectere Voluntatem Meam…Flectere Voluntatem Meam…Flectere Voluntatem Meam,” the hoarse voice muttered, sounding like a broken record. He shifted, redistributing his weight as he sat on the cold stone. He just couldn’t get the incantation right and it was driving him insane. He should have been with the others, but he had failed. He wasn’t smart enough. He wasn’t strong enough. If he could flog himself as a self punishment, he would. Maybe the physical pain would provide more motivation for him to finally get it right.

“Flectere Voluntatem Meam…Flectere Voluntatem Meam…Flectere Voluntatem Meam.”

 

* * *

 

 **A/N-** Hermione won’t become an alcoholic in this story, I promise. The Beyoncé song used in karaoke scene: _All Night_ (the song begins at 3:00 min). This song is definitely NOT from the early 2000s; I took creative license & did a bit A/U there because I _really_ wanted to use those lyrics for that scene. Luckily Beyoncé was already popular by the early 2000s, so that part is plausible. Oh, I made up the rodent “gingernimps” in Luna’s dad’s garden. "Flectere Voluntatem Meam"-rough translation from Latin for "Bend to my will."

 

 **Chapter 9: THE POTTER-WEASLEY WEDDING!**  

**What kind of wedding dress do you think Ginny would wear? Strapless, halter, spaghetti straps, one shoulder? Satin, tulle, lace? A-line, ball gown, sheath, mermaid? I have some of my own ideas but haven’t fully decided yet, so let me know your opinions/ideas!**

 

**Thank you for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer-I don’t own or make any money off of HP.
> 
> The Sylf cover of Fade into You (original by Mazzy Star) is used in one of the reception scenes. I posted the youtube link to the song at the end of the chapter, along with the dress I visualized for Ginny. Thank you for all your ideas!

McGonagall was practically floating down the hallway, her face lit up with a smug look of satisfaction. Snape didn’t want to find out why. So when she began to corner him, he attempted to look busy and distracted by joining a group of students gathered outside the Arithmancy classroom. He ignored their confused looks and even faked a laugh when one of them finished up a joke. But McGonagall was persistent and waited patiently until the group of Hufflepuffs were finally able to get away from him.

She wasted no time in explaining her exceptionally good mood. “I’ve heard Ms. Granger invited you to the Potter-Weasley wedding.”

He grunted. “Unfortunately,” still trying to move away from her and down the hallway.

She simply followed him. “Wonderful, I will see you there!”

“I never said I was going,” he mumbled.

“I _expect_ to see you there.”

“I can’t. I have duty that night.”

“Oh, well then, I’ll go rearrange your schedule right now so that you have that night off. Simple enough.” She smiled brightly at him.

He couldn’t hide the dismay that crossed his face. She patted his shoulder as she turned to walk away. “I _will_ see you there. Oh and _do_ try to have a nice time.”

Dumbfounded, he watched her walk away, her head held high in triumph. That didn’t stop her, however, from reprimanding a group of students who dawdled in the hallway and were now late for class. That woman was a force to be reckoned with.

It had been most unusual when Hermione invited him. It seemed a bit last minute, as the wedding was in just a couple of weeks. When he questioned the invite and why she wasn’t attending with Oliver, she shrugged and said he had been asked to coach a Quidditch camp in Austria the week of the wedding and he wouldn’t be back in time to attend. He actually looked into said Quidditch camp and found that it was true, Oliver had been invited to help coach.

But he continued to argue against the invitation, even days later. “I wasn’t really invited, I’ll be an unwanted guest.”

“Actually I’ve already talked it over with Ginny and she wants you to come! I promise! They sent out the invites in February, that was before you came to hang out with us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh my god.” She grabbed some floo powder from his fireplace mantle and shouted “Prongs Residence.” Before Snape knew it, Ginny’s face appeared in the ashes of his fireplace. “Hello?”

“Ginny, it’s me, Hermione. Did you or did you not tell me I could bring Snape as my guest to the wedding? He won’t believe me.”

“I did. Is he there with you?” Ginny seemed to be struggling to look around for him.

“He is. Please reiterate what you told me so he can hear you.” Hermione shot a frustrated look at him.

“I’d love to have you join us, Professor Snape! Please, I would be very honored. And I think Harry would be too, even though he’d probably never admit it.”

“Thank you, Ms. Weasley. I’m flattered by the invitation. I can’t make any promises, though.”

“Oh, ok.” Ginny _did_ sound a bit disappointed. “Well I need to get going, I have loads of errands!”

“Thanks, Ginny. I’ll see you soon.”

Hermione had turned to look at Snape, as she made her way across his room to leave. “See? I trust you have some nice dress robes for the occasion.”

* * *

“I don’t know why you made me come.” Snape was stumbling around, trying to maneuver around the yards of tulle spread on the floor waiting to be used as decoration. It seemed to wrap around his feet and ankles no matter which way he turned. Hermione laughed at the sight.

“You make it sound like I kidnapped and dragged you here against your will.”

“Well I just-“

“Just be quiet and sit over there and wait.” She pointed to a bench in the hallway. Reaching inside her bag she pulled out a book and handed it to him. “Here, see? Not so awful. This will occupy you as you wait.” She pointed at the bench again. He looked down and read the title of the book. Wuthering Heights.

“Wait for what?” He eyed her with trepidation.

“Me. I have to go get ready.”

He looked her up and down. She’d straightened and smoothed her hair. She was wearing a dress, although not a fancy one. She had some makeup on.

He shrugged. “You look ready to me.”

She turned away from him throwing her head back in laughter.

“You know nothing of the ways of women. Just sit down and read.” She opened a door and retreated into the room. He caught a glimpse of Ginny wearing a silk white robe sitting, having her hair brushed, and heard the sound of many female voices chatting incessantly, before Hermione pulled the door closed behind her.

* * *

Molly fussed over Ginny’s veil for the umpteenth time. Frustrated by her small stature, she pulled up a stool and started rearranging the headpiece again now that she had extra height.

“Mum, stop!” Ginny pulled her head away. She smiled though, showing she wasn’t nearly as irritated as she sounded, and shook her head. “You’re more nervous that I am.”

Hermione smiled warmly at the Weasley women, while she sat across the room putting on her earrings in front of a mirror.

“It’s just…marrying sons off is one thing, but it’s just different with you. And with your father-“

“I know,” Ginny grabbed Molly’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. They looked at each other tearfully.

Hermione pulled a silver necklace from a small jewelry box and moved towards the women. “Here, Ginny, let’s not forget your necklace.” Three small silver charms rested on Ginny’s chest as Hermione fastened the necklace behind her.

Ginny touched the charms tenderly, turning to face a mirror as Molly rearranged the bottom of her dress. A stag, a horse, and a weasel: Harry’s and her father’s Patronuses, with hers nestled in between their animals. Her eyes glistened. The necklace had been a gift from Harry on her last birthday.

Fleur came out of the bathroom sniffling, wiping her mouth with tissue, a peppermint stick in her other hand. Ginny watched her curiously as Fleur hiccupped a few times. Molly was instantly at her side, rubbing her back and whispering reassuringly.

“She’s still getting sick?” Hermione asked Ginny quietly.

“Yeah, even a nausea quelling potion isn’t helping much.”

Hermione’s eyes rested on Fleur’s abdomen. Only a tiny bump of life was noticeable at this point underneath her empire waist dress. Hermione shuddered at the thought of bearing through months of illness and then suffering through the pain of giving birth. It all sounded horrid to her. Fleur was five months along and had been sick almost the entire time, with little relief according to Ginny’s reports. Hermione wondered why the wizarding community hadn’t developed a way to make pregnancies progress faster and make less harrowing, but she supposed that would be a very dangerous thing to tamper with. _The least they could do is work on eliminating the unpleasant side effects of morning sickness._ _Maybe Snape and I can work on that!_

“Hermione, Ginny, come have tea with us!” Angelina’s voice broke through the room.

She stood behind Luna, pinning tiny flowers throughout Luna’s long curls. Luna sipped her tea, reading _The Daily Prophet_. The front page was covered in a large animation of Harry and Ginny, all smiles, embracing and kissing.

“The whole edition is devoted just to the two of you,” she said, flipping the page.

“Oh, lovely. I can’t wait to read what Rita Skeeter has to say this time.” Ginny peered over Luna’s shoulder at the paper.

Hermione sat at the table with Luna as Angelina handed her a cup of tea. She picked up one of the pages Luna discarded and began to read as she sipped her tea. She let out a guttural, choking sound, almost spitting the hot drink all over the page. The interactive newspaper took over and the sound of Rita’s sugary sweet voice could be heard reading the article she penned.

**_“We all were astonished that our young prince of the wizarding world isn’t marrying his childhood sweetheart, Hermione Granger. The two enjoyed a passionate relationship for years as student at Hogwarts. And one can only wonder what the red-headed, youngest of seven, Ginevra Weasley-_ **

Hermione slammed the paper closed as Rita’s voice could be heard screaming, demanding more attention, **_“did to steal away his AFFECTIONS!!!”_**

“This is rubbish.” She threw the paper aside.

“Speaking of relationships, I’m curious to know why a certain former professor of ours is sitting out in the lobby,” Angelina had finished with Luna’s hair and was now pinning her own up in front of a mirror, using her wand to secure it in place. She turned and gave Hermione a knowing look.

“Ginny invited him.”

“Yes, but why is he waiting in the lobby outside of our room…hours before the wedding?”

Hermione felt exceptionally annoyed with Angelina’s prodding, but noticed Molly, Luna, and Fleur all looking at her curiously. Only Ginny continued to move around the room, putting her makeup away. Hermione could tell she was listening carefully, though.

“It just made sense to leave from Hogwarts together. He agreed to come early.”

“Yes, but where’s Oliver?”

“He was invited to coach at a Quidditch camp in Austria and we both agreed that it was a really important opportunity for his career that he needed to take.” She gave Ginny a sympathetic look though. “He’s _really_ sad to miss today, though. I promise you.”

Ginny nodded in response. “I know, he apologized profusely before he left.”

“Ron told George that you’re hanging out with the professor, frequently.”

“Ah bloody hell!” Tonks came stumbling into the room, already wearing her lilac bridesmaid dress. “Sorry I’m late, I had the hardest time getting Teddy to focus on getting ready this mornin’. And I almost ripped my dress on the shrubbery outside!”

“Where is Teddy now?”

“Oh I pawned him off on your brothers. No doubt they’ll rile him up and he’ll be good and ready to misbehave during the ceremony.”

“Oh Merlin,” Molly whimpered looking at Fleur.

“So, what are we all talking about?” Tonks dropped her bags on a chair and looked around at all the other women, her hands on her hips.

“Professor Snape.”

Tonks scrunched up her face. “Why?”

“Because Hermione’s befriended him.”

Tonks raised her eyebrows at Hermione. “Really? That old bat?” Molly gave Tonks a reproving look. “I wondered when I saw him walking around outside.”

“I actually enjoy his company too,” Ginny chimed in.

Tonks eyebrows continued to remain halfway up her forehead as she looked around at all the other women.

“What does Oliver think about you spending so much time with him?” Angelina continued to question.

“What are you implying?” Hermione couldn’t hide the anger in her voice.

“Nothing much, just that certain people are beginning to think there’s more going on between the two of you than just friendship.” Angelina retorted.

“Oliver’s fine with it. He doesn’t jump to conclusions like _some_ people,” Hermione lied. She actually had no idea what Oliver thought about her friendship with Snape. She’d never asked.

“Now girls, it’s a wedding day, don’t spoil the mood,” Molly hovered over the table, making herself a cup of tea now.

“Yeah, it’s all about me today. Pay attention to me now,” Ginny said, grinning, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione shot her a grateful glance. Fleur broke the silence and bid Ginny to sit down next to her so she could charm her finger nails into a French manicure.

“Ohh do mine next!” Angelina cried, now distracted, as she looked over Fleur’s shoulder.  
“I will do all of yours, of course,” Fleur replied, her French accent still as strong as ever.

* * *

Ron stood in the hallway, nervously fidgeting with his waistcoat. The door suddenly opened and out came Angelina and Fleur, their arms wrapped behind each other’s backs affectionately. Fleur wore a pale pink flowy maternity dress, while Angelina wore a snug dark blue dress that had a long slit up the side, showing off one of her muscular legs. Fleur’s long blonde hair hung down her back in loose curls. Angelina’s was twisted and pinned up tightly. The two sisters-in-law couldn’t be more different. They smiled at Ron and passed on, heading outdoors for the ceremony.

Luna appeared next. “Hi Ron,” she smiled sweetly, twirling her bouquet of white, purple, and blue flowers .

“Ron,” Tonks acknowledged, winking at him as she sauntered off down the hall after Luna.

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. “You look so handsome!” He blushed slightly. “Wait till you see her, she’s glowing!” Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Did you ever think we’d get to this point?”

“Back then? No. I was just hoping we’d survive.”

She laughed, tears filling her eyes. “It feels surreal sometimes. I can’t wait to see his face when she comes down the aisle.”

“Ronald,” Molly smiled warmly, adjusting his bowtie. She kissed his cheek and then proceeded to rub off the lipstick mark she left behind. “You look so handsome.”

“Thanks, mum. Harry’s ready outside to walk you down the aisle.”

“Very good,” she patted his cheek, tears swimming in her eyes.

Ron’s eyes shifted away to just behind her and she followed his glance. Ginny stood in the doorway looking elegant in her ivory sheath dress made with very delicate lace. It was strapless and pulled across her breasts, abdomen, and hips to the left side, making the soft material accentuate her frame and curves. Her red hair lay straight, she insisted that she didn’t want anything “too fancy” but in the middle where she normally parted it the strands were pulled back and pinned into an ivory veil that flowed gracefully down her back to about her knees.

“Wow,” was all Ron could say.

Ginny liked the attention, but she also felt like slugging him in the arm for old time’s sake. She didn’t, though. She weaved her arm through his, bouncing her knees slightly.

“Are you nervous?”

“Nervous about tripping over this dress,” she replied, chuckling. She’d chosen to wear sandals, her feet were covered by this dress and she wanted her feet to be comfortable at least.

“Thank you for asking me to do this,” Ron said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “It really means a lot to me,” He could barely get out as he choked back tears.

She threw her arms around his neck, trying not to cry as well. “Of course,” she whispered. “Now stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” She pulled away adjusting her dress. “Make sure my veil looks alright?”

He moved behind her, trying to figure out what the hell “making a veil look alright” meant. “Uhh…looks good to me.”

“It’s laying straight, not bunched up or anything? Not crooked?”

“Nope, looks good.” He smiled at her, knowing that Hermione was sure to fix it at the end of the aisle and he’d be off the hook. They intertwined their arms again and set out into the sunny June air.

* * *

The cliff side wedding at Dover was breathtakingly beautiful. Molly had been so excited to hold a social event away from the Burrow.

Everyone stood ceremoniously as Ginny and Ron made their way down the aisle; and almost everyone’s eyes were teary at the sight of the siblings, some remembering Arthur sadly, some floored by how breathtakingly gorgeous and happy Ginny looked, and still others so relieved to see Harry have a happy ending, thinking of his own absent parents and godfather.

Harry’s eyes were large behind his glasses, and also filled with tears. Ron nodded at Harry, gave Ginny a peck on the cheek, and took his place along with Neville and Hagrid at Harry’s side. Teddy joined the groomsmen at the front as the ring bearer, standing in front and between Ron and Neville. Tonks eyed her son who was already fidgeting, just minutes into the ceremony. “Be good,” she mouthed at her 6-year-old, her eyes warning him. He straightened and stilled instantly, gaining a tiny nod of satisfaction from her. 

Hermione shed a few tears during the ceremony, trying to hide her sniffles. At one point Luna, who stood directly behind her, handed her a tissue, for which Hermione was extremely thankful. A few times her eyes fluttered out to survey the wedding guests. She smiled at familiar faces of former classmates and professors. Luna’s father stood out in the crowd because of his lime green suit and a top hat in the same color. Fleur’s mother, father, and Gabrielle sat regally, looking like French nobility. Shacklebolt sat in the back. Colin Creevey moved around, his camera clicking, as he documented the day.

But Hermione’s eyes kept flickering towards Snape. He sat on the outside of a row on the groom’s side, his face blank and unreadable. He was wearing all black, of course, except for the delicate ivory and burgundy pattern stitched into his waistcoat. A satin, ivory pocket square was tucked in perfectly and his although his tie was black, it was also satin and looked so soft Hermione wanted to run her hand over it. She wondered what he would look like dress in blues, greens, and reds. She wrinkled her nose at the images her mind conjured up. Black did seem to be the best choice.

* * *

Snape witnessed the marriage ceremony of the offspring who belonged to his childhood nemesis and the woman he loved. He didn’t feel any emotion, even if Harry and Ginny were former students. It was an odd event for him to attend. If someone had told him every year since 1980 that he’d one day attend Harry Potter’s wedding he’d think them completely daft. But here he was, sitting amongst what seemed to be hundreds of other guests, with a great view of both Ginny’s and Hermione’s faces. He’d chosen to sit on the groom’s side, not out of affection or devotion to Harry, but rather so he could have a better view of Hermione. It was a plus that he wouldn’t have to stare at Harry’s face the whole time, but rather his back. McGonagall had tried to wave him down to sit with her, but he’d ignored her, moving away to the far end of a row of seats, sitting next to a very large man who had seemed to bathe in cologne before the wedding, which now made Snape’s nose twitch furiously.

Hermione looked very different from when they had arrived. He now understood why she laughed so hard when he told her she looked ready for the wedding hours earlier. Her hair was French braided over the top and around her head in a very flattering way. She wore a chiffon lilac coloured dress, the single strap wrapped around her neck in a halter style. The dress wasn’t incredibly fancy, but the colour and style of it suited all three bridesmaids very well, despite their differences in body shape and complexions.

Hermione seemed to be glowing. Snape wasn’t sure if it was a result of her makeup or just a natural effect, but he found her to be very easy on the eyes. He remembered Luna’s comment about Hermione looking like a Veela. Hermione had definitely outgrown her awkward and unattractive years, that was for sure.

He noticed her looking at him frequently during the ceremony, and he made sure his eyes were always on the couple when he noticed her turn her attention towards him. But when she wasn’t looking at him his attention would drift back to her.

* * *

“ _What_?” Hermione gave Snape a suspicious look. He had been analyzing her hair for a couple of minutes.

“Your hair looks a bit red in this light.” A serious look, almost like dread flashed across his face. “Are you colouring it?” His tone was a bit accusatory.

“No, why? What’s it to you?” She gave him a quizzical look.

“Nothing.” He hunched his shoulders. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You sure you don’t want to dance?” Couples filled the dance floor, slowly swaying to a soft melodic song.

“Do I come across as someone who enjoys dancing?”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“That’s most attractive, Granger. I see the other men lining up to dance with you now.”

“Oh shut up.” But she couldn’t hide a grin. “Well are you having any fun at least?” She elbowed him playfully.

“Hmmph.”

“Oh c’mon, lighten up! It’s a beautiful night. Love is in the air. There’s plenty of food and alcohol to keep us content for hours,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Snape grumbled something inaudibly.

“Why’d you decide to come?” She eyed him curiously, the playful look still in her eye.

He stared straight ahead, his expression deadpan. “Minerva told me she expected to see me here once she heard you’d invited me.”

Hermione laughed, throwing her head back. “Ohhh she can be so wicked sometimes!” She clapped her hands together with delight.

“I’m glad you find amusement in my suffering.”

Hermione’s laughter continued, drawing curious looks from the people nearby. Snape making someone laugh, especially a young female? Now that _was_ a strange sight to behold!

“In my autobiography someday I will write all about this night and your attendance, of course.”

“I hope I’m dead by that time,” he said sourly.

“It must be documented in history, oh I wonder if Colin’s around with his camera,” she started shifting in her seat, searching the reception tent.

Snape stood abruptly, backing away from her as if she was a horned dragon, his eyes panicked.

“Oh calm down! I’m only kidding. Come back,” she patted his chair. “I won’t make you pose for any pictures.”

He resumed sitting, this time alert and stiff.

“You really need to relax,” she admonished. “The war is over. You don’t have to worry about spying anymore. Harry doesn’t hate you. And, believe it or not, some of us are _actually_ beginning to _like_ you.” She leaned sideways, pushing her arm against his gently, looking at him affectionately. Still, he refused to look at her.

Shaking her head slightly, she resigned. She didn’t understand why he was so tense tonight. He had been loosening up the last couple of months and seemed like he was beginning to enjoy her company. _I may never fully understand this strange man._

* * *

Ron had been awkwardly staring at Hermione and Snape for most of the reception as he sat alone at his family’s table. He just didn’t get it. He knew they were kind of friends, but why’d she have to bring him to the wedding? That seemed _more_ than friendly. And where was Oliver?

The whole situation just seemed weird. Snape hanging out with a bunch of former students? The same man who had verbally abused them for years as their teacher? The man no one could figure out, whose loyalties had been constantly up for debate, who seemed to have it in for Harry in particular, was now at Harry’s wedding? Ron’s mind could not handle the confusion.

He sat there watching Hermione tease Snape, whose reactions remained impassive. _Bloody hell, she was practically flirting with the man!_ Ron knew Hermione well enough to know when her playful teasing reached flirtation status. He felt his eyes bulging at the sight. He watched closely to see if Snape showed any signs of flirting back. He supposed, now that Hermione was older and a hell of a lot more attractive, that maybe Snape was trying to get in her panties. But no, Snape didn’t even seem like he wanted to be there!

 _Snape is barely interacting with her, why did he even come?_ _Well if he’s not going to dance with her…_ Ron stood up, tucking the edges of his shirt back into his trousers.

* * *

“Hermione.”

“Hmm?” Out of instinct she leaned her body closer to Snape’s as she responded.

“I think someone is trying to get your attention,” Snape nodded to his right as Ron awkwardly watched them, pacing a few feet away.

She waved and smiled at Ron but remained seated, forcing Ron to come to them. He acknowledged Snape with a brief wordless nod.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there dancing.”

“Well, no one’s asked me to dance yet,” she shot Snape an annoyed look.

“Oh…uhh…I guess I’m here to save the day.” He held out his hand to her. She laughed, grabbing it. Snape watched them move onto the dance floor, his face carefully blank. That is until his line of vision was interrupted by another dancing couple moving towards him.

“Severus Snape, I am so glad to see you here. And you look dashing!”

Snape met McGonagall’s eyes with an annoyed expression. She merely laughed as she continued to dance with Horace Slughorn, whom no one had heard from or seen in years.

“I see Potter was able to hunt you down for the occasion,” Snape addressed Slughorn.

“Well, yes, unfortunately _and_ fortunately,” he gave McGonagall a wink at the last part of his sentence.

“Oh come, Horace, you can’t stay away from us forever! We’re all far too charming and endearing to ignore.”

Snape watched the older couple with amusement. Perhaps tonight wasn’t too awful. He decided he needed more alcohol to fully relax. Someone followed him over to the table.

“I was really happy you could come.” He turned and met Ginny’s eyes.

“It seems a last minute change to my schedule allowed me to. Thank you for the invite,” his voice sounded stiff and robotic.

“I hope that you’re having a good time. Hermione seems to be entertaining you.”

 _Entertained by me is more like it,_ he thought.

“I hope that we continue seeing you around,” Ginny’s voice was steady and full of conviction. “Hermione really enjoys your friendship.”

Someone called out to Ginny, but much to Snape’s surprise she reached out and squeezed his arm, her eyes intense, her smile authentic before she went to join the group. Snape stared down at his glass; the faintest smile crossed his lips, his face softening. His arm was still warm from her touch even minutes later. _Of course this would happen to me. The only friends I have in the world are three Gryffindor women, just my luck._ He shook his head at how ironic the situation was turning out to be. Why on earth did he have to be so drawn to befriending Gryffindor women? And all three of them: Minerva, Hermione, and Ginny, seemed to ease themselves in his life and then steadily wear him down until he actually enjoyed them. _Lily would certainly be amused if she were around to see this._

Heading back to his table, he glanced around the dance floor. Ron had his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her very snugly. Hermione was smiling at him affectionately, as they swayed and talked. _Gross,_ he thought. Snape imagined Ron to have perpetually clammy hands. He swished his beer around in his glass and then took a swig, glancing back at the couple curiously.

* * *

“It’s weird that you brought him,” Ron said nervously.

“Who? Snape? No it isn’t! He’s come to a few social events with all of us. I think everyone’s pretty used to him by now. Even Harry. You’re just not used to it since you always seem to be working.”

Ron shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, why isn’t Oliver here with you? And why _him_?”

“I _already_ told you. Oliver was asked to coach at a Quidditch camp in Austria. And I asked _Severus Snape_ because he’s my friend and I felt that after everything, he really should be here. And I should ask you the same thing. Why didn’t you bring Romilda? I thought you two were going steady now.”

“We’re just…hanging out. Nothing serious.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron had dated a myriad of girls and never seemed to want to get serious with any of them.

“I’m trying to get used to him. I really am,” his voice contrite as his eyes pleaded with hers. “He was just so mean to us. And we spent years trying to figure out if we could trust him. It’s just not that easy for me to forget.”

“I know. He’s…misunderstood. We didn’t get along at the beginning of the year, but…I don’t know, I just began being patient with him and he’s relaxed a bit. Sometimes I get the feeling he’s really lonely and he’s put on this whole standoffish façade to make himself seem stronger and so he doesn’t get hurt. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“Hmm…seems like you’ve really psychoanalyzed him.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“I care about him. I’m not going to pretend I don’t.” She gazed into her best friend’s blue-green eyes, confident that befriending Snape was proving to be good for both him and her. “It’s ok if you don’t…if you still feel cautious around him. I wouldn’t expect you to feel the same way I do. I’m around him on a daily basis. We _almost died together._ I won’t force you to be his friend or anything. But I do ask that you give him a chance. Try not to judge him so much. Please? For me, Ron?

Ron nodded, but still looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Thank you.” She hugged him closer until a pop song began playing.

“Stay and dance a little longer?” Ron looked at her, his eyes filled with hope. Neville and Luna were making their way to them now, Luna’s dance moves looked like a cross between “the hula” and disco. Hermione shot a quick glance and saw Snape talking to Shacklebolt now and she grinned back at her friends, deciding to stay in their celebratory circle for a while longer.

* * *

When Hermione broke away from Ron, after more than two songs, she found Snape strolling just outside the reception tent, staring the stars, his hands in his pockets. Another slow song began playing, a soft, lulling beat. He turned just before she caught up to him, his eyes locking onto hers. She smiled gently. 

“We can leave whenever you’re ready, I know it’s been a long day,” she reached him now, joining him underneath the stars.

“A dance, Granger?”

She looked at him, shocked, not believing what she thought she’d just heard. “I thought you didn’t want-“

He grabbed her hand, his other arm wrapping around her waist and pulled her towards him gently. “Oh,” she let out unintentionally, her surprise escaping from her lips. She looked up into his eyes, their faces mere inches apart from each other. He looked down into her eyes with such vulnerability her stomach fluttered. She could barely breathe. His hand on her lower back was a juxtaposition that confused her; firm yet cautious, strong but gentle. She continued to stare up at him, but now he had moved his eyes away from her face, admiring the sky and the cliffs instead. They danced so slowly it barely felt like they were moving at all.

**_Fade into you. Strange you never knew._ **

Soon her head was resting against the side of his, her chin pressed against his shoulder. She didn’t remember leaning closer to him, but their bodies were now touching lightly. A light breeze ruffled his hair, the fine strands of black tickling her cheek. She closed her eyes as their bodies continued to sway to the romantic beat. She felt light, almost like she was floating, as if in a daydream.

Her senses were on high alert, though. Against her right hand, she felt a couple of calluses at the base of his fingers, along the top of his palm. But even more so, she felt warmth from their skin to skin contact and it felt electrifying. His scent was similar to the time she had run into him outside of McGonagall’s office: he had an earthy smell mixed with spices and herbs. It wasn’t quite as strong this time, however, and with her nose almost buried into his hair she could smell a faint scent of soap. He must have washed his hair this morning. It did look rather soft to the touch and shiny, rather than greasy. She moved her head closer to his neck, his hair falling over half of her face now, but she didn’t mind at all.

Her breasts were brushing against his chest. She was careful not to press herself into him too much to avoid any awkward touching. But she found the light brushes of their bodies against each other far more tantalizing than if they were firmly pressed against each other. This somehow left more to the imagination. _Get a grip, Hermione!_ She almost reprimanded herself out loud. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her breathing.

He pulled away first, when the song ended. “You ready to leave?”

Wide eyed, she nodded. “Let me say goodbye to the others, I’ll be quick.”

* * *

Snape watched her walk away; she wobbled in her heels ever so slightly like she was struggling to get her balance again.

He shouldn’t have done it. He had no idea what came over him. He thought for sure she’d dance the night away with her friends, forgetting about him, and he’d have to return to Hogwarts alone. So when she broke away from Ron and came back to him he was caught off guard. _It was that smile_ that fucked him over. Why did she have to smile at him like that? And the song had been so enchanting, so dreamy, underneath the night sky, with the smell of the ocean water and the faint crashing of the waves along the cliffs.

He had touched her. Skin to skin contact, even if it was just the hands, it made his stomach tighten and his lungs constrict. He knew that if he gave it a second’s more of thought that he wouldn’t have asked, so he had just grabbed her. He felt like it was forceful and he was surprised she didn’t pull away in horror. Instead she stared up at him, her eyes large and questioning.

At one point she leaned into him and he could smell her warm vanilla scent. It was intoxicating. But within a few seconds he felt her stiffen slightly and he panicked. _Is she ok? Did I do something inappropriate?_ Thankfully a certain part of his body wasn’t stirring too much and he could easily keep it away from her without appearing too awkward. Although when she inhaled deeply into his hair he felt a surge of blood course through his pelvic region. _Damn physical responses._

The song seemed to last forever and yet ended too soon. He hadn’t wanted to pull away. But he did, trying to resume his indifferent air and guarded demeanor. 

* * *

The moon lit their path as they walked back towards the brick building where Hermione had left her stuff before the wedding. The Strait of Dover created a lazy mist that hung in the warm night air. The sound of the music from the reception drifted out over the landscape, away from the tent. Hermione sucked in a breath sharply as she walked next to Snape, taking in the atmosphere. _Everything is so romantic right now._ Hermione shot a quick, hesitant glance at her companion. The moonlight on his face gave him an effervescent glow and Hermione’s stomach fluttered yet again that night. She avoided his eyes, knowing that was the key to Legilimens. A flush crept up her neck and face and before she could stop herself she put her hands to cheeks to cool her flaming skin.

If he noticed her reactions he didn’t say anything, but remained as stoic as ever. She really shouldn’t be having such silly girly thoughts, especially when she was with someone skilled in Legilimens. She quickened her pace towards the building, eager to get away from him for a few minutes and compose herself. “I’ll just be a minute, let me grab my stuff.”

 _Stop shaking_ , she commanded herself as she packed up her makeup kit and other toiletries she had brought with her. _It’s Snape! He’s just…a friend._ She made her way out of the room, grabbing her copy of  Wuthering Heights he had left on the reception table and slipping it in the bag flung over her shoulder. She looked out the glass doors and saw him sitting on a bench inside a little white gazebo.

He didn’t move to stand when she approached, so she sat next to him and looked out over the cliffs. His hands were folded in his lap, his back straight. She wondered what he was thinking about, wishing she was skilled at Legilimens. She looked at him thoughtfully.

“Oliver and I broke up.” He looked at her, his eyes questioning, his eyebrows furrowed for a brief second. “I haven’t told anyone else yet.” She tried to read his face, but it was in its usual form: carefully guarded. _Damn that Occlumency,_ she thought disappointedly.

“Oh?” She thought she picked up on a faint strain in his voice, but she couldn’t be sure and it wasn’t enough to analyze.

“I told him that I wasn’t ready to get married and he took that to mean that I wouldn’t want to marry him, ever.”

“Did you clarify for him?”

She sighed, looking down at her hands. “No…”

“Is that the real reason he isn’t here today?”

“Yes and no. He came back from Austria by Portkey this morning, so he could have made it. But he wasn’t very happy about having to see me here, so he decided not to come.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was quiet and his words sounded foreign to both of them.

“Why? I’m not. It wasn’t meant to be. I would like to get married, someday. And I think that I would even consider having one child, maybe two…someday. But not right now and not with him.”

She looked down at her hands, but she could see that his face moved slightly towards her, he seemed to be staring at her hands as well.

“Do you ever think about that day?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

She saw him twitch but he remained silent.

“You knew I was having some prophetic dreams, for a few months before anything happened, right?” She continued.

“I thought you scoffed at the discipline of divinity.”

“I did and still do usually. And that’s why I neglected to tell anyone about my dreams. Plus, they were always…somewhat different. So I figured that if they weren’t exactly the same every time then it must not mean anything.”

“You must have had a dream about the Boathouse.”

“I did. A few actually. But the situation always played out differently.”

“I thought we’d both die.”

“Me too.”

He was clenching his jaw now. “I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“Wasn’t it though? I was obviously having those dreams for a reason. I don’t think it would have been possible for me to ignore the thoughts, the visions, all the instinctual urges that took me to you that day. In fact, I know at one point I tried to run away and abandon you, I was so scared. But I couldn’t, _literally_. There was some kind of invisible barrier keeping me in the Boathouse.”

“Hmm.” He stared straight ahead, his eyes were sad.

“Can I show you my memory of it?”

He shrugged.

“I actually have a Pensieve back at Hogwarts.”

“Of course you do.” He rolled his eyes.

She shrugged. “I thought it was a good possession to have, I bought one a couple of years ago…May I please show you?”

He gave only the tiniest of nods and she quickly grabbed his hand disapparating before he could change his mind. 

* * *

Sylf cover of  _Fade into You:_<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7uJD9ZkSNQ>

Ginny's wedding dress: <http://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_white-by-vera-wang-strapless-lace-wedding-dress-vw351044>

Any other Star Wars fans?? Did ya'll see the Episode 8 Behind the Scenes & new character posters Disney released yesterday?? It's got me GIDDY. I can't wait for December.

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for going on this journey with me by reading, subscribing/bookmarking, the kudos, & reviewing! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but important nonetheless. Please read these A/N’s, they’re important too.
> 
> A/N #1-I’m taking creative license in how he experiences her memories. I have very specific reasons for doing it this way. Mostly I needed him to experience her memories in their entirety (not just seeing it, but feeling her emotions, hearing the same things, knowing her thoughts). I hope that the change is easy enough to accept. This kind of happened to Harry in his dreams at times, so I feel it could be possible.
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP or make any money from this story. 
> 
> READING GUIDE TO THIS CHAPTER: Most of this chapter will be in italics to indicate that it’s a memory (this will happen at least 2 other times in this story). If it’s Snape’s own thoughts then the font will change to be normal. If it’s Hermione’s thoughts within her memory then they’ll appear in bold italics. Most of the chapter will be from Hermione’s pov, so just remember that everything you’re reading/visualizing is also everything Snape is seeing too. Lyrics from Gorecki (by Lamb) are included; they’ll be in quotation marks, bold, and italics.

**Flashback to Prologue (April 28 th 1998): **

Trelawney convulsed on the floor… Her voice rumbled out, filling the headmaster’s office:

**“The dark lord approaches…**

**The girl with ‘very little aura’ is called…against her will…**

**To the place where the Grindylows sleep**

**She will go to the one whom you trust**

**They are in _grave_ danger…”**

Dumbledore gave a quick nod, interpreting her meaning. “Fawkes,” he called…He whispered something in the creature’s ear…The bird soared out the window, flying slowly, watching the school grounds.

* * *

Snape dropped Hermione’s hand the second they arrived in the Potions classroom. She noticed how clammy his was and wondered if he was nervous to see her memory.

She went over to a cabinet where she had stored the Pensieve, her high heels clacking against the stone floor. Pulling out the large bowl, she held it out behind her for him to take, her head still buried inside the cabinet. She selected a vial with a watery liquid, labeled with elegant cursive handwriting. She watched him curiously as she poured it into the stone bowl. He was leaning against her desk, legs stretched out in front of him, his arms folded across his chest, and a resigned look on his face.

“I’m giving you two memories. One from April 30th and then May 2nd obviously.” She closed her eyes, concentrating on the exact memories as she pulled the light silvery threads from her head, lightly tapping them into the Pensieve with her wand.

She saw his jaw moving. He was still considering if he wanted to see her memory from that day. She wondered why he was so hesitant. It made her even more curious to see _his_ memory of that day. Hopefully he’d share them.

Then, turning abruptly, he sank his head into the Pensieve, his black hair floating across the misty liquid.

* * *

The swirling memories disoriented him, he found himself falling, falling, falling, until he landed in a hallway…outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Snape looked around. He saw Ron, but couldn’t seem to locate Hermione. Something felt off.

Ron was complaining about Harry’s mood swings. _“Every time he gets back from another Horcrux hunt with Dumbledore he’s in a worse mood than ever before. Brooding and snapping at everyone. He’s not sleeping, just keeps the rest of us in the room awake with his constant nightmares. And he’s looking sick. He’s always been a pale, little fella, but…I don’t know…surely you’re noticing all this too, right?”_

Then the red head turned and looked directly at _him_ , addressing _him_ , not Hermione, wherever she was _._

 _Something caught their eye and they turned to see Dumbledore approached, smiling that familiar, kind smile, his blue eyes twinkling._ _“Good afternoon Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley.”_

 _“Good afternoon, Professor.”_ Snape heard Ron’s voice next to him, but _her_ voice rumbled through his own chest. Still, he couldn’t see her.

Then he realized. Somehow he wasn’t viewing this memory in third person, as an outsider who wouldn’t be noticed. He was _in_ her head. He wasn’t her, per se, but rather a separate entity within her. He could feel her emotions and hear her thoughts as if they were his own, but somehow could still think for himself. He didn’t know such a thing could happen in the Pensieve process.

He raised his head from the Pensieve; it was a struggle to do so, he felt like the memory was clamping down on this head, resisting his withdrawal. He was even more pale than usual. Hermione watched him with a worried expression, wringing her hands.

“What? Is something wrong?”

He couldn’t answer, even if he wanted to; he was speechless and in shock. He stood, bent over the Pensieve still, his hands propping him up on either side of the stone bowl, staring at her without really focusing on her. He was mulling over whether or not he wanted to proceed. The out of body experience of using the Pensieve was weird enough as it was…but this…being a part of her, he didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Is everything ok?” He heard her ask again, but her voice was muffled. He felt a strong pull back into the Pensieve, a force he couldn’t defy. _Just do it._ Dragging his eyes away from her, he took a deep breath and reentered her memories.

* * *

_“Harry is going to be fine, he just needs your love and devotion.”_

_“Yes, sir,” Ron answered, still frowning._

_“Ms. Granger, need I remind you that when the Phoenix sings it brings healing to those afflicted. And when it weeps, its tears have special healing properties specifically designed to counteract snake venom. Phoenixes make the most loyal pets, if you will recall, I have a Phoenix. His name is Fawkes. He flies with such speed, it’s quite amazing, especially when he’s called upon by name, he’s there in a blink of an eye.” Dumbledore stood before the 7 th years, smiling expectantly. Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to make of his comments, but Hermione felt compelled to respond, especially since he had addressed her specifically._

_“Uhh, yes sir. I remember reading about Phoenixes our first year and that you have one.”_

_And with that Dumbledore merely nodded as if delightfully pleased by her response and strolled away, his hands clasped behind his back, leaving Hermione and Ron, and now Snape, incredibly confused._

_“That man is going bonkers!” Ron turned his wide eyes on Hermione._

The memory swirled and Snape now found himself, embedded within Hermione still, standing just outside the Great Hall. The doors to the Great Hall were open and students sat eating their noon meal, engaged in lively conversations.

_Hermione’s body jerked with a sudden rush of déjà vu. She froze just outside the Great Hall. Her eyes frantically roamed over her classmates, who milled about around her or sat eating and scanned across the teacher’s table. Dumbledore was there, scooping the hot stew into his mouth and chewing slowly while McGonagall sat beside him, talking his ear off. Where’s Snape?_

_Her heart thumped, her stomach clenched. The dreams, this had happened before, she had felt this way before. **Everyone is acting so ordinary,** she observed. But she sensed danger. Intense fear raged through her. She backed away from the entrance to the Great Hall, her back hitting against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. She struggled to control her shallow breaths. **Is this an anxiety attack? But why?**_

_Then realization swept over her, shocking her. Her body grew rigid. The dreams **had** been prophetic. She had tried to deny them. **Prophecies,** she had scoffed. She had wanted to deny their true power._

_She tried to recall the dreams, to gain some idea of what might be going on or what might happen next, but all of them had been so scattered and dissimilar. A few common themes ran through them though. Fear and pain. Loneliness. Urgency. Falling over someone. Similar sounds._

_But now, like Harry’s dreams about Arthur during their 5 th year, hers were also coming true, at least in some way. **Harry, I need to find Harry. Or tell Dumbledore. They would know what to do.**_

**_The boathouse._ ** _**Go now,** her thoughts urged her, compelling her to move. _

**_Is Harry at the boathouse?_ ** _She pushed off the wall and headed back towards the Great Hall. No, she could see him sitting there between Ron and Neville, eating lunch. She saw his eyebrows furrow and he reached up, touching his scar. She looked at Dumbledore again, but he seemed just as oblivious as everyone else as to what might be happening._

 **_Go now!_ ** _The thought took on more urgency. A stab of pain hit her heart. She reached inside her robe to pull out her wand, keeping it discreetly low beside her. A rush of wind met her face as she pushed open the castle’s doors and broke into a run once she was clear of the building, her school robe swishing around her legs. The wind and her school robes worked to deter her, but she resisted, pushing against them, willing her legs to move faster and faster. The midday sun was harsh as her eyes tried to adjust from the sudden change. She had absolutely no idea why she was running to the boathouse, but her mind was screaming at her to obey its demands._

_The boathouse came into view. She didn’t see anyone around. She slowed, trying to gain control of her gasping breaths. Casting a silencing charm over her body, she decided to discard her robe; it only got in her way. She tossed it on the ground before she entered through a side door rarely used. She found it odd that it was even unlocked._

_Now holding her wand out she looked around, trying to rely on her déjà vu to guide her. She stood completely still for a minute, holding her breath, listening. Complete silence._

**_Hermione,_ ** _she scolded herself, **you’re going mad.** **Of course there’s complete silence. Nothing is happening. No one else inside the castle noticed anything.** She shook her head, curls whipping around her face. _

_Just as she turned to exit the boathouse, she saw through the window a bolt of lightening shoot across the sky. **Wait, lightening? It had been completely sunny and cloudless when I was running across the school grounds to the boathouse. That can’t be.** She heard a loud cracking sound and it registered in her mind as one of the reoccurring sounds in her dreams._

_Her body tensed again as if telling her to stay and be vigilant. She swung around, repositioning her arm again as she held her wand out in determination. Was she shaking? **Steady** , she willed herself._

_She waited and listened. She heard another crackle of thunder, noticing in her periphery a bolt of light shoot straight down from the sky. **That lightening looked odd.** There had been a dark smoke that tumbled down from the sky along with it and she swore she thought she saw a person stand up afterwards. **Nothing about this storm makes sense.**_

**_Concentrate_ ** _, that foreign voice inside her head implored her. Slowly she moved forward, trying to find some confirmation for her anxiety. She didn’t like feeling insane. Then she heard it. A deep, silky voice. Snape’s voice, no doubt. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but at least now she had her confirmation that something was, in fact, happening._

_Visions of her dreams swirled through in her mind. She felt as if she was trying to catch flying debris and piece everything back together. It was a wearying sensation._

_She noticed a huge stack of gray crates lining the hallway. If she remembered the boathouse correctly this area was used for storage but opened into the main room, where, she assumed, Snape and whoever he was talking to, were standing._

_The gray storage crates. Her attention fell on them again. The smell of dust. She caught one of the pieces of debris that flew through her mind. In a few of her dreams she was in the boathouse, concealed by those very same crates. What happens next? She searched her mind, trying to remember so she could prepare._

_She edge forward, thankful for the silencing charm she had remembered to cast, and could clearly make out what Snape was saying now._

_“I’ve allowed you to enter the school’s grounds. That was our agreement.” His voice was low and steady._

_“Yessss Severusss. Very good. But ‘I have a problem,’” the second voice hissed._

**_Hissing. A snake._ ** _Hermione’s fingers gripped another piece of mental debris. She jammed the puzzle piece into place, recognizing more clues from her dreams._

_“’My lord?’”_

_Hermione, eyes wide with the news that Voldemort was at Hogwarts, peeked around the crates, trying to be discrete. Her heart beat erratically. Oh what she wouldn’t give to have Harry’s invisibility cloak right now. **Why didn’t I think to bring it? Oh, right, because of the intense prodding to get to the boathouse immediately**. _

_But who or what had caused that prodding? Had it been Snape calling for help? But how? And why wasn’t he calling on Dumbledore to help instead? Or luring Harry out to meet Voldemort? Was she supposed to go warn Dumbledore that Voldemort was at Hogwarts? **Questions for another time, Granger, like maybe when you’re not in the presence of “the dark lord” and staring death in the face,** she chastised herself._

_“You’ve been a double agent for so long…”_

_Hermione craned her neck to get a better view. She could see a bony, practically translucent, hand brush against Snape’s cheek. She cringed. She didn’t understand Snape. How could he serve someone so vile?_

_“…but perhaps your loyalties have been confused.”_

_“My lord?”_

_“Severus, I’ve long trusted you…against the advice of your fellow Death Eaters. But I’ve had a growing number of reasons to distrust you. I started collecting evidence, you could say, and there were small slips in your Occlumency. Oh yes-I know about your Occlumency. But in spite of my growing distrust, I kept you around. I needed you. You were valuable. And served a purpose…for a time.”_

_Voldemort seemed to be trying to make his voice gentle, but the attempt juxtaposed with the raw evil that seeped out of every crevasse of his being. Hermione shuddered. She wanted to flee, to get away. She felt cold and alone and it seemed to be linked the Voldemort’s aura. **Is this how Snape feels all the time?**_

_“My lord, I would never-“_

_“I don’t need you anymore. And I certainly can’t have you interfering and helping the boy anymore. After this battle **no one will need you** **ever again** ,” Voldemort snapped, dropping his façade of gentleness._

_Hermione saw Snape wince at Voldemort’s words. He seemed quite pained by them, even with the secluded life he had chosen to live. **He’s lonely…he’s been lonely. But he wants to be needed…to be loved…and cared about,** the revelation dawned on Hermione. It was hard to believe since he’d always been so sour towards everyone. _

_But why had SHE been the one called upon to witness this? She felt so afraid. It shouldn’t be her. Surely there was someone better who could help Snape? Where’s that Gryffindor courage she was supposed to possess? She didn’t want to take on Voldemort. She would be killed. Or captured and tortured. Probably both, the latter, before the former. They would surely use her to draw Harry out. Harry would feel the need to rescue her. Or what if she tried to help Snape and he turned on her?_

_She choked back bile rising in her throat. **What the hell am I doing here?** She began to back away. **Snape can fight his own battles. He got himself into this mess anyway.**_

_Hermione felt herself back into something. She cringed, hoping that whatever she ran into didn’t make anything fall and draw attention to her. But she heard nothing. She turned and saw nothing. She didn’t know what she had run into._

_She tried to leave the boathouse, to run away, but something was keeping her inside. An invisible wall of some sort. A spell had been cast and she couldn’t leave. How? Who had cast it? Panic ensued._

_She turned wide eyed, half expecting to find Voldemort approaching her, thinking he’d discovered her and cast the spell. But nothing. No one._

**_Hermione._ ** _The voice inside her head wasn’t her own. It was the one from before, the one that told her to go to the boathouse in the first place. **Hermione, steady yourself. You have a purpose. Do not neglect it,** the mysterious voice encouraged her._

_Then the lyrics of a song flashed across her mind; a Muggle song her mom used to listen to when she’d clean the house. The music and lyrics filled her head and she began to hear it so vividly that it sounded like it filled the boathouse. This had happened in one of her dreams; same song, same location._

**_“If I should die this very moment, I wouldn’t fear. For I’ve never known completeness like being here.”_ **

_The lyrics urged her forward. Her arm extended out, wand ready, for what, she didn’t know, but she sensed her part was coming up._

**_“Still my heart this moment, or it might burst.”_ **

_As she resumed her spot by the storage crates she found she was no longer trembling. She had gained some semblance of courage and composure. Out of the corner of her eye she saw more lightening and black smoke. The Death Eaters were arriving now._

**_“Here is true peace, here my heart knows calm.”_ **

_The female singer’s voice in Hermione’s mind lulled her into a trance, calming her, as if this song was created specifically for her, for this very moment. **No,** she reminded herself. This was a song she had heard as a child, before she ever came to Hogwarts. But still, the lyrics resonated with her so heavily that they did soothe her, like a lullaby. Hermione held her breath and waited._

_“’It cannot be any other way but I do regret it. Nagini!’”_

_She heard the sweeping of robes and the hissing of a snake._

**_Now!_ ** _the voice mobilized her._

**_“All I’ve known, all I’ve done, all I’ve found was laid into this.”_ **

_She rushed forward just as she saw the snake swoop up to bite Snape’s neck with a swift movement. Her vision blurred as anger surged through her. She saw Snape stumble backwards against the window pane, arms flailing against the windows. The snake moved into its attack position again._

_Hermione spat out a hex on the snake, stunning it. It was the only spell that came to her mind in that moment. Adrenaline coursed through her body. She didn’t even recognize her own voice, it sounded menacing and gruff._

_Snape looked at her with a startled expression; she wasn’t sure if it was out of disbelief that she was there or if he just didn’t recognize her. She looked around expecting to find Voldemort and needing to confront him, but he was gone._

_The door to the boathouse was left open, for the snake to follow, she assumed. She did see him striding across the field, heading towards the castle, his robes billowing out around his body in the wind as dark clouds now swirled over the castle. She wished she could warn everyone inside. She should be there with them; her friends, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. But fate apparently had a different purpose for her._

_Cold air rushed into the boathouse. She shivered. It was much too cold for May. Turning back towards Snape she saw the snake elongate and slither its body towards her. Her hex hadn’t been strong enough to subdue it for long. She heard herself calling out another curse as she felt its fangs dig into her neck._

_Snape moaned and she stumbled towards him. She hadn’t meant to fall on top of him but her legs gave out. She could feel the snake’s venom coursing through her veins, rushing towards her head and heart. She flung her body out over Snape’s to cover him._

_She screamed one last time, calling out desperately just as the snake launched its head at them. She felt another sharp pain and even though her vision was fuzzy at this point she saw the snake strike Snape again as well. Apparently she hadn’t covered him well enough to protect him. She reached out and felt the cold flesh of Snape’s hand. She pressed her palm into the top of his hand, wrapping her slender fingers around it. Their touch felt magnetic and electrifying._

_But her heart beat was slowing down. Her lungs felt heavy…too heavy to keep breathing. She became dizzy. So this is how it ends? Trying to save Snape? It didn’t seem likely that she had succeeded…they both were bleeding out and poisoned by the snake._

_The sound of Fawkes’ wings flapping in the air could be heard._

_Her last memory was another line from the Muggle song._

**_“I’ve found the one I’ve waited for.”_ **

_Then black._

* * *

Snape recognized the last thing that Hermione screamed. It wasn’t another curse hurled at Nagini, but a cry for help. She had called out to Fawkes. She’d remembered and deciphered Dumbledore’s message, even while succumbing to the snake’s poison. So that’s how…he had never had their rescue fully explained to him. In fact everyone always seemed quite baffled by it. Hagrid had found the two and carried them off, amazingly one in each arm, to receive medical attention. That was all he knew.

They shouldn’t have survived Nagini’s attack. The poison and the blood loss were just too much to contend with. But Fawkes had sung and cried over them, providing at least some preliminary healing before Hagrid had come along. Neither Hermione nor Snape had remembered that part…they were both unconscious by the time Fawkes arrived.

And the touch of her hand…she had reached for his hand to clasp it, seemingly unaware of the magical exchange they shared. Her own magic was trying to heal him through their flesh on flesh contact. Snape could tell from her memory that she definitely felt the spark, the sensation of the magical exchange, but he guessed that she was either too poisoned by that point to understand the exchange or that she had chalked it up to physical attraction. It had to be the former, Snape decided. She had never shown one hint at being attracted to him, at least physically, before that day or after.

Their transfer of magic…it had started with her, but she had been too weak for it to last long. In fact, even though he was attacked by Nagini before she had been, the poison seeped through her body at a quicker rate, affecting her a lot faster and more than him, at least at first. It made sense, as a petite woman, the poison had less area to travel. And she was also only 18, and although a very powerful witch already, not as strong as Snape to withstand the poison.

And so, when her magic fizzled out, his had taken over. He did distinctly remember that, even if it wasn’t part of her memory. He had tried to give back. He had tried to, in turn, save her.

But it wasn’t her he was thinking about…in his delusional mind it wasn’t her he thought he was saving…

And that song she heard in her head…that damn song. _What was that even about?_ The last line, the last part of her memory, echoed through his mind. **_“I’ve found the one I’ve waited for.”_** It confused Snape. And when he was confused he became enraged.

* * *

Hermione watched Snape anxiously, one hand gripping the other, knuckles white, pressed against her lips. His head jerked up, his breathing rugged. He stared back into the Pensieve for another minute and then shot her a deranged, wild look.

She was afraid to speak.

Looking down again he opened his mouth, before snapping it shut abruptly, his hands bracing himself against the desk. He appeared to be trembling. A pained expression crossed his face.

Then he stood up straight and disapperated, disappearing into thin air.

 

* * *

 

 **A/N #2** -Like the filmmakers who asked JKR for permission, I chose to use the boathouse for this scene, because of the aesthetics. I do find it quite poignant that JKR used the Shrieking Shack, though, because of Snape’s encounter in there as a teenager, almost getting killed the first time.

 **A/N #3-** You’ll get his memory of May 2nd, but not until later in the story. Sorry, not sorry!

Link to  _Gorecki_ by Lamb: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSRYvYN1ayw>

**Thank you all for reading, bookmarking/subscribing, the kudos, & reviewing! It means so much to me!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Same drill as last chapter, when there’s a flashback the text will be italicized. You’ll get flashbacks from Hermione & Harry this time, sans the Pensieve. I will include the dates of the flashback at the top of those scenes.
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP or make any money off this story. If I did, I’d definitely be off gallivanting around Europe on vacation! (I’ve been to the Netherlands, Belgium, & France already. This time it’d be Ireland, Scotland, England, Austria, Germany, Poland, Czech Republic, Russia, Switzerland, oh what the hell…like every European country!)

Hermione pushed the food on her plate around with her fork, staring at it dismally. She had no appetite. It was Wednesday, three days since Harry & Ginny’s wedding and she felt restless and low. Snape hadn’t come to any meals. McGonagall didn’t seem to notice. But Hermione did. He was avoiding her. She had seen him once, only just briefly, in the dungeon hallway and he had awkwardly fled the scene. She hadn’t known what to expect when she showed him her memory of that day, but his hiding left her confused and anxious. They still had three weeks before the summer holiday; three _excruciatingly long_ weeks if he kept up this weird behavior.

She left him alone though. It _had_ been a rather traumatic event, one that she preferred to block out herself. She actually couldn’t even remember the end of her memory, it all blurred together in her poisoned state. She remembered falling over Snape, but that was really it. Was that what had made him so upset? Sure, it was inappropriate for a student to be lying on top of her male teacher, but still…the circumstances were dire. That hardly seemed something to be mad about in the face of death.

She remembered what he had told her as they sat under the little gazebo before they left Harry and Ginny’s wedding. _“It wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”_ What did that mean? Was he mad that she had come? Maybe someone else was supposed to come help him. Or maybe he was mad he survived.

Hermione let that idea sink in. Voldemort had told him that no one would ever need him again. Maybe Snape had already come to believe that and had given up on life…on a future. Did he blame her for surviving? How was she supposed to know that he preferred to die?

But she had seen the look in his eyes when Voldemort had said that. He looked so hurt. In fact, it was the most vulnerable and emotionally raw she’d ever seen him. It was a look that haunted her, that she preferred not to dwell on, but one that she had used for motivation when McGonagall had given her the task of befriending him.

Hermione noticed the students and other faculty members beginning to retreat from the Great Hall. She stood up and thankfully her plate disappeared before anyone else around her noticed she hadn’t eaten a thing. She had a planning period after breakfast on Wednesdays so she decided to go rest, ignoring the large stack of grading she had accumulated over the last week. Feeling so confused and restless made her exhausted. Her body seemed to move at a slower pace, her mind unwilling to cooperate and concentrate on her work. Now, in the privacy of her room, she stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She had often marveled at how they had survived, when they were so clearly doomed, alone in the boathouse, suffering from Nagini’s bites. She had clouded memories of waking up in St. Mungo’s with McGonagall, Harry, and Ron watching her, huddled about her anxiously.

* * *

Flashback to June 1998~

_She blinked slowly a few times. At first her eyes seemed like they were glued shut. She felt groggy and disoriented, but as she gained consciousness she saw her two best friends and favorite teacher standing over her. “Blimey, she’s finally awake,” she heard Ron gasp._

_She tried to sit up and find her bearings, but her body ached terribly when she moved too much. She felt a bandage around her neck._

_“Hermione,” Harry said affectionately. He sounded so relieved. He reached out and touched her shoulder tenderly._

_She smiled weakly at her three visitors, but her eyes quickly shifted away from their faces as someone else caught her attention. Snape lay in a bed across from her, murmuring, wet strips of cloth laid across his forehead._

_“He’s suffering from delirium,” Harry explained, nodding at Snape, when he noticed Hermione looking concerned._

_“Oh. Was I delirious too?”_

_“Only for like a day. Mumbling something about dreams.”_

_“At one point you said Trelawney was right. That’s when we knew you were delirious!” Ron said excitedly, his eyes wide. Harry elbowed him. Hermione rolled her eyes, which caused her head to pound._

_“Professor McGonagall, how did we survive? Who found us?”_

_“Fawkes’ tears were able to keep you alive until Hagrid was able to find you and get you back to the castle. We transported you both here shortly after.”_

_“Fawkes…” Hermione remembered Dumbledore’s odd message even though her mind was still fuzzy. “But how did Hagrid know we were there?”_

_“Dumbledore was able to get the message to him before…” Ron’s voice trailed off._

_“Before?” Hermione’s brain tried to register what that meant._

_“Dumbledore was killed, Hermione,” Ron’s voice cracked._

_The news made her feel like she was dying all over again. Her heart thumped, she felt like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, her vision grew fuzzy, her head dizzy._

_“And Voldemort? The Death Eaters? I remember…I remember him arriving and talking to Snape…before he went to the castle,” she stammered._

_“It’s over,” Harry stepped in, his face worn. “We won. Voldemort is gone.”_

_“You killed him,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. Her hands were restlessly moving in her lap, smoothing the hospital blankets covering her lap. Everything had been building towards that battle and she had missed it. She hadn’t been there to help. She struggled with mixed feelings as she wrestled with the guilt and trying to feel reassured that it really was all over._

_“Neville killed the snake! Went right after it and chopped off its head with the sword of Gryffindor! It was the greatest bloodiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ron exclaimed, his eyes filled with pride at Neville’s courage._

_“Oh, Neville, I always knew he would rise up to do amazing things!” Hermione clapped her hands together, a smile crossing her face._

_“Turns out the snake was one of the Horcruxes.”_

_Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth, covering her shock._

_“Mister Potter, you should probably tell her about the 7 th Horcrux,” McGonagall added._

_“7 th? I thought you said there were 6. That he split his soul into 7 pieces, but kept the 7th for himself.”_

_“Yeah, well…the 7 th was an unintended one. You know Dumbledore and I were able to figure out 5 of them: Tom Riddle’s diary, Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, Salazar Slytherin’s locket, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, and Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. Then the snake turned out to be one. But…I learned that there was an accidental one cast, when Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me. He didn’t realize it had happened, he was just so determined to get rid of me because of the prophecy, and his soul was so fragile at that point.”_

_“That’s…mind blowing. So…how were you able to get rid of it and still survive?”_

_“Well it’s kind of hard to explain. I let Voldemort think he killed me with the Avada Kedavra curse. But only the Horcrux inside of me was destroyed. I still had the chance to survive it. With all the Horcruxes gone he was powerless.”_

_“That’s brilliant. But everyone must have thought you were dead.”_

_“We did,” Ron confirmed, his face grave._

_“Malfoy’s mum actually lied to Voldemort. To his face. She told him I was dead but she knew I wasn’t.”_

_“Wow. This is all…too much to take in right now…” Hermione’s head started to hurt._

_“There’s more you should know. We lost some good people,” Ron’s voice grew quieter. Harry patted Ron’s shoulder._

_“Who?”_

_“Lupin.”_

_Hermione’s hands flew to cover her mouth again, as fat, warm tears now spilled down her cheeks. “No!” she gasped. “Poor Tonks!”_

_“And Fred.”_

_“Oh Ron!” she reached out to grab his hand, kissing the top of it lightly and hugging it to her wet cheek._

_“Padma Patil. Dean Thomas. Susan Bones. Lee Jordan. Alicia Spinnet. Some others we didn’t know very well. Professors Babbling and Sinistra,” Ron continued._

_“Arthur,” Harry spoke up, very quietly, squeezing Ron’s shoulder as Ron winced at the reminder he’d lost a brother and father._

_Hermione couldn’t take it anymore, shaking her head, her curls whipping across her face and sticking to her wet cheeks._

_“Come, gentlemen, we’ve broken the news to her. She needs to rest. And she needs time to cope with all this. You can talk more about the battle after she works through this.”_

_“Wait, Professor McGonagall, do my parents know about me being here? Are they safe?”_

_“Yes, my dear, we cleared it with Kinsley Shacklebolt and they have been allowed to come visit you here. We take turns escorting them in. They’ve been visiting daily, but came earlier this morning.”_

_“Ok, thank you,” Hermione said weakly._

_McGonagall lovingly pushed some of Hermione’s locks away from her face. “Now rest my dear. We want to see you on your feet and energetic again.”_

_“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, her grip tightening on Ron’s hand as McGonagall left the room._

_“Of course we won’t.”_

_Harry drew up a chair and Ron sat down, pushing his forehead to Hermione’s as she laid there sobbing and hiccupping. Harry walked to the other side of the bed and crawled up on it, his back against the pillows, stroking her hair. He looked across the room, fixing his eyes on Snape, still unconscious after all this time._

* * *

Flashback to May 2, 1998~

_Harry had cradled Dumbledore’s head in his lap that day of the battle, after witnessing Bellatrix throw the Sectumsempra curse at him. She must have learned it from Snape. “Damn that man for inventing such a brutal curse,” Harry thought bitterly. A hex hit Bellatrix in her back before she could curse Harry as well. Both Harry’s and Bellatrix’s attention turned towards the spell caster: Ginny. Bellatrix, barely affected by Ginny’s hex, let out a maniacal laugh as she began to pursue Ginny. Harry looked between Ginny and Dumbledore, desperately wanting to be in two places at once._

_“Go, Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice urged him._

_“Professor-“_

_“’Not my daughter, you bitch!’” Molly’s shrill voice resounded around the Great Hall, drawing Harry’s attention, relief instantly flooding his heart. Ginny’s mother had come to her rescue and now he could focus on Dumbledore._

_“Professor, I don’t know the healing spell for this curse. Please help me, I will heal you.”_

_“No Harry. It has to be this way.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_Dumbledore’s breathing was laborious as his life poured out of his wound. “Harry, you need to concentrate. People will be falling around you. Friends, classmates, mentors, but you need to concentrate on your end goal. You need to find the rest of the Horcruxes. You and Ron must find them and destroy them.”_

_“And Hermione.”_

_“No, she’s following her own course.”_

_“What? Where is she?” He looked around frantically. Dumbledore’s comment had made him realize he hadn’t seen her since the battle started. Panic now gripped him. He’d been so overwhelmed when the Death Eaters showed up that he just assumed she was in the Great Hall with everyone else._

_“Don’t get distracted now, Harry. Everything will be revealed in the right time. Find Ron. Find the Horcruxes. You **can and will** succeed in defeating Voldemort. I believe in you, Harry.”_

_“Let me save you and then I’ll go find Voldemort. Please, help me, coach me through the healing spell.”_

_“I’m not the one that needs to be saved, Harry. It’s Snape who must be saved.”_

_“Snape?!” Harry cried incredulously._

_“Harry, there is another prophecy. No, no!” Dumbledore’s voice grew more determined as Harry began to shake his head violently. “This prophecy isn’t about you this time. But it’s imperative that Snape is saved. I’ve already started working on it, I’ve arranged for some others to find him, but Harry you must make sure that everyone recognizes what he’s done for the Order. What he’s done for you.”_

_Harry stared at Dumbledore, confounded. **The old man was going insane for sure,** Harry thought. **Save Snape?**_

_“Professor Dumble-“_

_“Harry, I’m serious. There will be things in the future you will all need him for. Put your past animosities aside. You do not know him like you think you do. You’ve deeply misunderstood him and he’s led you to those conclusions, but that’s not the reality of the situation. Here, take these thoughts, they will give you some perspective.” Harry caught the thin memory threads that Dumbledore had pushed forward in his mind on the tip of his wand and put them inside his own head to extract later._

_“Harry, do as I say,” Dumbledore implored. “Find those Horcruxes. Destroy Voldemort. Save Snape.”_

_Dumbledore died in Harry’s arms that afternoon. Without time to properly process his emotions, Harry was forced to leave Dumbledore’s body there to view his memories using the Pensieve in his office. Luna created a diversion so he could slip away from the chaos unnoticed. The memories revealed secret, deeply personal conversations between Snape and Dumbledore. The efforts Snape went to effectively spy for Dumbledore did indeed enlighten Harry, as did Snape’s reasons for doing so. The memories also shared knowledge of the Horcruxes, and although both professors were just speculating, the two had began to connect the pain of Harry’s scar to Voldemort’s fractured soul. Harry left Dumbledore’s office equipped with the knowledge he needed to finally defeat Voldemort. But Harry had also carefully placed the memories inside a vial and hid it in the bookcase to retrieve later, for the purposes of saving Snape’s reputation, like Dumbledore had instructed._

* * *

Flashback to June 1998~

_A mediwitch came in to check on Hermione and Snape after the guys left. She shuffled around changing bandages, medical tubes, medication, and helped Hermione walk to the lavatory so she could have the privacy of relieving herself in an actual toilet, not a pot by her bed, now that she was fully conscious. Hermione’s legs shook as she hobbled across the room and back, clinging to the young mediwitch. Martha, as she had cheerfully introduced herself in a thick Irish accent, gathered the bottom of Hermione’s dressing gown, holding it out of the way while Hermione used the toilet. The whole thing humiliated Hermione and she couldn’t imagine Snape accepting help like this. But Martha was kind and spoke soothing, encouraging words to Hermione as she struggled to walk, which somewhat mollified Hermione’s embarrassment._

_Hermione sighed with relief as she eased back against the pillows and Martha covered her back up. Hermione glanced curiously at where Snape still lay, completely still, nearly as white as the blankets that covered him._

_“Looks like you could be released next week, if your recovery keeps going well,” Martha looked over Hermione’s chart and marked a few things down._

_“How is it that I’m conscious and recovering and Professor Snape isn’t?”_

_“Well, he had more extensive damage.”_

_“The snake bit him more than me?”_

_“No, he had preexisting injuries and magical damage from his past that’s taken a toll on him too.”_

_“Oh.” Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap, thinking about his years as a spy, acting as one of the Death Eaters, probably having to prove himself to the Death Eaters to keep their trust. She shuddered at the thought._

_“And from the looks of it he spent the last of his strength that day trying to transfer it to you.”_

_“What?” Hermione’s head snapped up at the blonde mediwitch._

_“You two share a blood affinity now,” Martha said as if it was a simple and mundane idea._

_“How…what is that exactly?” Hermione searched her mind for information on ‘blood affinity’ but came up short._

_“Magical affinity is rare. Two people’s magic has to align and find semblance. But blood affinity is a transfer of blood and if you’re a wizard or a witch that means a magical transfer as well.” Martha studied Hermione’s face to see if she understood before continuing. “So, none of us were there when you two were attacked, but we can assume the snake alternated between attacking the two of you, thus transferring some of your blood and magic to Severus and his to you, even if it was only through small wounds.”_

_Hermione’s heart dropped. In the Muggle world that kind of blood transfer spelled disaster. She recalled the rapid spread of HIV and other bloodborne diseases. “Is it dangerous?”_

_“What? The transfer? Well, yes, it can be. I wouldn’t call a snake attack safe by any means,” Martha chuckled as she finished up folding the hospital laundry._

_“No, I mean how it affects someone after.”_

_“Ohhh. The simple answer is no.”_

_“What the complicated answer?”_

_“If you were both already infected with certain illnesses then yes, a transfer of those diseases and illnesses can occur. But neither of you are ill with anything that we couldn’t cure right here, so you’re both safe. And actually with a blood and magical affinity you now share a similar ‘blood type’ as Muggles would call it, which means it would be easy for either of you to donate blood to each other and replenish each other’s magic if need be, so obviously it can be a good thing. But, because you guys were also poisoned by the snake, that also limits who can be a blood or magic donor in the future.”_

_“Meaning?”_

_“Only people who have also been poisoned by a snake can be matched medically with either of you. There are other magic bearers who fall into this category, but not many. Arthur Weasley would have been a suitable one…But because of your circumstances of the attack, the fact that the snake not only poisoned the both of you but also transferred each of your blood on its teeth to the other, you and Professor Snape will always be the best match. From a medical standpoint, of course.”_

_Hermione rested her head back against the pillows, falling silent now. Everything she had learned that day, from the battle to the blood affinity, overwhelmed her. Martha finished up her last bit of duties and bid Hermione good night._

_It took Hermione another couple of hours before she could fall asleep. She just sat there, staring at Snape, wondering if any of this would ever matter in the future._

* * *

Amycus Carrow sat, tapping his index finger against his pant leg, like a human metronome. He was hunched over, staring straight ahead at the metal that barred him in, his eyes bloodshot, his skin yellow. He had been sitting like this, tapping his pant leg, for hours.

He heard movement down the hallway and he straightened his back a bit. Someone was coming.

“Where is my sister?” he growled when Tonks passed by. She cocked her head to observe him, deliberating on whether or not she even wanted to answer.

“I know you took her. Where did you take her?”

Tonks smirked. She liked the power she held over the prisoners a little too much. She liked getting under the prisoners’ skin, especially the Carrow siblings. “She was moved to a higher security cell after the stunt she pulled.”

Amycus grunted.

“We’re working with the Wizengamot to begin changing some of the policies in our favor. It would be nice if we could retrieve your memories, even if we have to do it against your will. We’re going to get to the bottom of what happened soon,” Tonks lied. She wished her words were true though.

“They won’t change those policies.”

“We’ll see.”

After a brief pause, Tonks began to walk away.

“Aren’t you a little too pretty to be an Auror?”

“Aren’t you a little too stupid to be a Death Eater? I mean, it was a stupid decision to join such a hopeless cause in the first place, but at least most Death Eaters had some wits about them. Come to think of it, are you sure you’re not _a Squib_?”

“Ahh you’re a sassy one. I like it,” His eyes bore into Tonks from the other side of the cell. “Too bad you’re one of the good ones,” Amycus’s voice was rough. He rose and came forward, looking her up and down and licking his lips. “I woulda enjoyed having you around.”

“Oh really?” Tonks refrained from shuddering and instead cocked her eyebrow. “I didn’t think you liked my type. A half blood.”

“Half Blood? Ah, pity. I could maybe overlook that for a few hours of enjoyment.”

“A few hours? You seemed to have an inflated view of yourself. I doubt you could last that long. You’re such a weak thing.” Her tongue made a “tsk” sound as she looked over his skeletal frame with disgust. She knew she needed to stop and get the hell away from him, but she couldn’t seem to stop insulting him in anyway she could.

“Why don’t you join me in here and I’ll prove myself to you.” His tongue moved slowly over the front of his top teeth. “We could have a little fun with these chains, if you know what I mean.”

“What a offer. Afraid I can’t, though, as I’m on the clock and you’re not my type.”

“Just remember I asked politely this time, like my mother always taught me. Next time I won’t. You’ll be in here, strapped up to the wall and I’ll be giving you the treatment you so deserve.”

Someone emerged from the shadows. Within a second the tip of a wand was pressed against Amycus’ throat.

“I would think twice before you continue talking that way to an Auror,” Ron’s voice was steady, his eyes flaring with hatred as he jammed the tip deeper into Amycus’s flesh. “If I hear your voice again I’ll make sure it’s the last time anyone ever hears it.” Ron lowered his wand and grabbed Tonks by the arm, pulling her away from the cell and down the hallway. They heard Amycus chuckling as they departed.

“You really gotta stop provoking the prisoners,” he let go over her once they were moving down an adjacent corridor.

“You say it like I’ve done it before,” her voice snarky.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

“Aww but it’s so fun.” Tonks said with a half smile, her hips swinging back and forth with sass as they walked down the corridor.

“Yeah but you’re gonna find yourself in trouble here one of these days, either with the Wizengamot and Robards or with the prisoners.”

“He’s locked up,” she waved her hand to dismiss the idea.

“Some others have managed to try to break out already.”

“Amycus is too stupid to pull off anything like that.”

“Tonks, I’m serious.” Ron stopped and stared at her sternly.

She sighed. “I know. I’ll stop. It just feels too good of an opportunity to pass up sometimes.” She gestured to him to keep walking with her.

“Hmm…Hey by the way, I was wondering if I could take Teddy to a Quidditch match this summer.” The commanding appearance Ron had just a few minutes before disappeared and he now looked shy and tentative as he addressed Tonks.

“You wanna take my rambunctious six-year-old to a crowded, public event by yourself?”

“You don’t think I can handle a kid for a few hours?”

“I just think that he may be a little more tiring than you imagine. But hey, he would love it, so I say go for it! I’ve been meaning to take him to one and it would be great for him to spend more time with adult men instead of just his old mum and grandmother. Poor boy.”

“Thanks!”

“You like kids?”

“Oh love ‘em. Hoping to have a small collection of my own some day.”

“A collection of kids, you say? That’s…an interesting way to phrase it.” Tonks laughed.

“Maybe my own Quidditch team.”

“Ah, yeah. Well I’m sure between you and Ginny and Harry’s kids you could have a team!”

“Noooo opposing teams that play against each other. That’s how we’ll train them.” He winked at her.

“Whatever you say, Ron. You should probably start thinking about settling down and starting that family then.”

Ron rolled his eyes and held up his hand. “Please, I get enough nagging from my mum.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t have any trouble, you always seem to have plenty of women in your life.”

“Yes, but getting serious with any of them is another thing.”

* * *

Hermione saw the 1st year student lingering after class that Friday afternoon. The Gryffindor shot Hermione some shy glances as she slowly packed up her bag, her dark blonde hair falling across her face. Hermione’s curiosity was piqued. The student was doing well in class and had good behavior, but she clearly wanted to talk to Hermione alone.

“Elizabeth, is everything ok?” Hermione said gently, sitting on the edge of her desk.

Elizabeth shuffled forward, her shoes scuffling along the stone floor. She had something in her hand. “I wrote you a note.” She held it out to Hermione.

“Thank you.” Hermione started to unfold it, catching the startled expression on the twelve year old girl’s face.

“You’re going to read it right now?!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. “Is it an angry note?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No…I just…well…I know it’s not the end of the term yet, maybe I should have waited to give it to you so you don’t think I’m sucking up to you or anything,” Elizabeth spoke quickly, even more nervous now. “Because I’m not. I promise. I’m going to study really hard for your final exam.”

“I’m sure you will. I will wait to read this until tonight. And I won’t let it influence how I treat you or grade your assignments, does that sound fair?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Still the girl lingered so Hermione decided to make chitchat to help relax the girl.

“Are you doing anything fun this summer?”

Elizabeth’s pale blue eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I’m going to Greece for the whole month of July with mother and father! I’ve never been anywhere outside of the United Kingdom, I can’t wait!”

“That’s wonderful, Elizabeth. I’m glad you get to go for a long vacation. Do you have siblings to keep you company?” Hermione didn’t recognize the girl’s last name associated with any other students.

“No, it’s just me and mother and father. But I don’t mind very much and I don’t get too lonely usually.”

“I’m an only child too and I didn’t mind much either.” She gave the girl a half hug, guiding her towards the classroom door. “What class do you have next?”

“Oh!” Elizabeth reddened. “Umm, Transfiguration.”

“Ok, you better head there before you get a tardy,” Hermione said gently.

“Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth turned back towards Hermione as she reached the classroom door. “Umm Professor Granger? You’re coming back to teach next year right?”

“Yes, I am,” Hermione smiled kindly.

“Ok, good.” Elizabeth grinned widely. 

Later that evening Hermione unfolded the note from Elizabeth.

_Dear Professor Granger,_

_I just wanted to let you know that Potions was my favorite class all year and you’re my favorite professor. I’m not trying to suck up to you to get a better grade or anything, I just wanted you to know that I always look forward to your classes and you’re a really good teacher. You explain things really well. When I write home I always tell mother and father about your classes and I can’t wait to learn more from you._

_Your student,_

_Elizabeth Anne Bretton_

_Dear sweet girl._ Hermione smiled, bringing the letter away from her eyes. _At least something seems to be going well as of late._ She folded the letter carefully and placed it inside one of her chest drawers. Moving around her room she grabbed a large pile of student essays and stuffed them into her book bag, deciding to tackle the grading with the aid of a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

Neville pulled the chair out and awkwardly moved around the table to take his own seat. He smiled nervously at the blonde across from him.

“This place is lovely,” Luna said as she admired the chandeliers and the fine tablecloths inside The Wizard’s Pourhouse. It had a romantic ambience at night.

“It opened last year. Right after you left for South Africa I think.”

They took the next few minutes to silently look over the menu, Neville thankful for the chance to get his breathing under control.

“What can I bring the two of you?” the male waiter asked pleasantly. Neville motioned at Luna to order first.

“I will take the butternut squash linguine with the kale and edamame salad, please.”

“And to drink? I suggest a lighter Chardonnay wine with your dish.”

“Just water, please. Thank you.” Luna turned her attention to Neville.

“I will take your roast beef with red potatoes and the Caesar salad. And just water too, thanks.” The waiter nodded, finishing his note taking.

“Have you ever tried any vegan dishes?”

“No,” Neville’s face reddened with embarrassment. He wanted her approval so bad and was afraid of disappointing her.

“Well I’ll have to cook you one sometime. I’m sure you’d like at least some of it. Sometimes you can barely tell it’s any different.” She smiled her quintessential sweet smile which instantly made him feel less nervous.

They talked about her research in South Africa, about Harry and Ginny’s wedding, she told him about her father’s new theories on Nargles (that they had abandoned the mistletoe and taken up residence in ivy instead, “more room for their multiplying numbers,” as Luna put it), and she listened intently to his Auror stories. This was the first time they had really been able to catch up just the two of them since she had been back, so much of their time before the wedding was spent with Harry and Ginny preparing for the event.

“So…ummm,” he grew nervous again as the waiter cleared their dishes. He brought his glass of water to his lips and quickly gulped the rest of it down while Luna sat there watching him curiously. “I wanted to talk to you about us. I mean, I know we’ve always been friends, and _good_ friends, and, you know, a few dates in the past. But…I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d like to be _more_ than just friends. I’m mad for you, Luna.”

The waiter appeared. “Any dessert for the two of you tonight?”

“No thank you,” Neville waved his hand, shaking his head. He desperately wanted to redirect Luna’s attention back to him.

“Oh, yes please!”

“Very well, I’ll bring you the dessert menu.”

“Is that ok?” Luna asked with wide eyes.

“Yes, of course. I’m, uh, just so full from dinner,” Neville lied. He would like to stuff his face full of chocolate at the moment to help him feel better, especially if this conversation didn’t go well, but knew that wasn’t a good idea.

“So, what were you saying?”

“Right,” he paused, trying to regain his train of thought. “I’ve always cared for you, you know that. And I was a little…scared of you at first. But, I don’t know, even at first when you could see the Thestrals and nobody else except Harry and I could, it just made me feel connected to you-“

Neville stopped short when the waiter walked by to lay the dessert menu in front of Luna.

“You’ve always understood things on a deeper level and I feel like you understand me so well. I think that’s because we both share the loss of important family members. And you’re a great comfort to me. I’ve always felt odd and out of place and you’re so comfortable with who you are. I just want to be odd with you, forever.” He let out a small laugh, his eyes tearing up.

Luna smiled and laughed too, but Neville couldn’t tell what she was thinking. The waiter appeared. Again.

“Do you know what you’d like?”

“Oh,” Luna looked startled and her eyes fell to the single page. “Ummm…can I have your vegan chocolate pudding cake, please?”

“Excellent choice.” He slowly refilled Neville’s water glass.

Neville waited until he was out of earshot and then held out his hands to Luna. She placed her delicately thin fingers in his palms; her flesh was soft and cool to the touch. “I want to do this for real this time. You and I. I’m all in. I just want you to know that.”

She nodded, her face serious now. “I want that too.”

“Really?!” Neville exclaimed, clearly thinking her answer would be very different.

“Of course. I love you. I agree, we are very well suited for each other. And just different enough to compliment each other.”

Relief washed over Neville. He felt like he wanted to climb to the top of Big Ben and shout at the top of his lungs that Luna Lovegood loved him.

“That makes me so happy, Luna, you have no idea!”

A plate with the chocolate pudding cake was placed in front of Luna and he let go of her hands. She scooped a big bite of it onto her spoon and savored the flavor. “Mmmmmm. So creamy. Here, try some.” She scooped another, smaller spoonful and held it out to him. At this moment he’d do anything for her and was surprised that he didn’t hate the way it tasted.

“It’s interesting…it’s good. But I still like real chocolate more,” he confessed with a sheepish grin. She smiled before taking another bite. He had one last thing he wanted to tell her.

“I know that your job is really important to you and the research too. And I know it requires a lot of traveling. I just want you to know that I don’t ever want to hold you back. If you need to go travel, then do it. But just know I’ll always be here waiting. And I’m committed. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” She raised her water glass. “Cheers to new beginnings.”

“Cheers.”

They continued the rest of their evening talking about less important things, but enjoying each other’s company nonetheless. Neville ate three more bites of her vegan dessert. He escorted her home and kissed her on the doorstep of her father’s house. When he got back to his flat that night he forced Ron to wake up, bribing him with a slice of non-vegan chocolate cake he ordered to go from the restaurant. Then he proceeded to talk Ron’s ear off for an hour about his conversation with Luna and how excited he was. Ron, appeased by the cake, listened intently, nodded, and congratulated his friend.

* * *

Hermione sat alone, in the dark, in the cold. It was much too cold, even for the dungeons. She sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly. Shouldn’t she be crying? She felt like that was the appropriate response to have…but instead she felt nothing. Complete apathy.

She heard laughter emanating from somewhere in the dark shadows. It sounded like Bellatrix’s wild laugh at first. But then it became much more familiar…like Molly’s or Ginny’s laughter. A lighter voice joined…was that Luna? _No, it couldn’t be. They wouldn’t be laughing._ But the laughter continued and more voices joined. Tonks? Harry? Ron?

Then as clear as day she could hear her parents. “Oh, Hermione,” her mum said with disappointment. “What have you done?”

“You’ve really ruined everything this time, Hermione,” he dad reaffirmed. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“You’ll be alone forever now,” her mum admonished. “Alone” echoed off the walls and Hermione covered her ears, continuing to rock back and forth.

“No. Just leave me alone.” She willed herself to cry but she just couldn’t.

“Do you even care?” Her dad asked, his voice incredibly exasperated.

“No! I don’t! Leave me alone!” she screamed out now.

“Hermione, you’ve failed me.” McGonagall’s voice stern. “You’ve disappointed me.”

“I’m sorry, I tried.”

“Not hard enough. You’re a failure. You’re a disappointment.”

“You’re going to end up all alone. You’re a failure. A disappointment. You’re a failure. A disappointment. All alone. A failure. A disappointment.” Her mum’s, dad’s, and McGonagall’s voices took turns repeating the words. The laughter started again but she just laid down and gave up trying to justify herself. It was true, after all, wasn’t it? “I don’t care,” she sneered. “I don’t care at all.”

Hermione turned and yanked on the bed sheets tangled around her legs. They were wrapped in a way that felt like vines were crawling up her legs. Or worse, snakes. She was slow to come out of the dream and twitched on her bed after she freed her legs.

She did care, though. Sometimes she thought she cared too much. Who was this girl who plagued her dreams, this unrecognizable, apathetic Hermione?

* * *

McGonagall knocked softly on Snape’s office door, leaning her head close to the wood to listen. She had noticed his recent withdrawal from the other staff members, resuming his life of seclusion. She had let it go for about two weeks, but now she was more than curious. It was one week before the end of the term and she also needed to know his answer to her proposition.

The door opened slowly, Snape’s gaze cautious as he peered out from behind it, half expecting a student…or _someone_ else in particular. When he saw who it was he opened the door wider and relaxed a bit. “Minerva, what can I do for you?”

McGonagall stepped inside his office and made her way to his desk, intending to sit and chat for awhile. He reluctantly followed her.

“I was beginning to think you’ve disappeared, Severus.” She looked at him pointedly as he took his seat on the other side of the desk.

“Hmm. I’ve been busy.” He took up his quill and started marking essays again to emphasize his point.

McGonagall watched him silently for a couple of minutes, taking in his movements and thinking through how to get him to talk. She was simply bidding her time. As was he. Something must have happened between him and Hermione after the wedding, McGonagall suspected. But what? A quarrel? Jealousy? McGonagall had noticed Hermione spending a lot of the reception with Ron. But that didn’t seem like the answer. And Hermione was supposedly dating Oliver Wood…so wouldn’t Snape have shown some kind of jealousy before? But then she remembered his complaints about Oliver visiting Hermione at Hogwarts. Has something romantic happened between them? Or something one-sided and unrequited?

McGonagall peered harder at Snape, trying to read him, but her attempt was pretty much useless. Finally, exasperated by McGonagall’s intrusive staring, Snape paused his writing and looked up at her sharply.

“I’ve missed seeing you around.” She smoothed the front of her robes over her lap.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“I suppose you’re having the house elves bring your meals to you privately. Certainly you haven’t gone for two weeks without eating.”

“As always your suppositions are astute.” His gaze fell back on the parchment in front of him, but his writing slowed as he tried to pay attention to her without seeming like it.

“Why have you been so reclusive?”

“I repeat, I’ve had a lot of work to do. Surely you remember what it was like to be a professor at the end of a term.”

“Very well…I just noticed you and Hermione haven’t been speaking.”  
His eyes snapped up to meet hers again. There seemed to be a hint of fury in them. “So?”

“I just thought it strange, since the two of you had seemed to be getting along so well recently.”

He set down his quill with a sigh. “Minerva, what are you playing at?”  
“Whatever do you mean?” she said innocently.

“You are up to something and aren’t that subtle about it, even if you think you are. So out with it.”

She clamped her mouth shut, her lips in a thin straight line. It did amuse her that they were probably the two most stubborn people in the United Kingdom.

“Have you thought more about my offer?”

“You’re certain you want to retire?” He raised his eyebrows.

She sighed. “Yes. I am done. I didn’t need to be in this position for long. It is a nice end to a long and emotionally trying career. But I want to _rest_ now. And maybe do a bit of traveling.” She let out a long breath, releasing pent up stress. He observed her weathered face. Her eyes had certainly seen a lot of heartbreak. “I will miss it and all of you course. But I’m ready to go.”

They held silent eye contact for less than a minute but to both of them it seemed like hours.

“You should make your list to replace you as headmaster.”

McGonagall looked genuinely disappointed, but nodded respectfully. She pulled out a piece of folded parchment from her robe pocket, unfolding it to reveal a list of names scrolled in a column. “I’ve already started, just in case.” She pointed to his quill and he handed it to her. She crossed off the first name. _Severus Snape._

He felt a tug at his heart as he watched her do so. Was it the right decision?

“Hogwarts would benefit greatly from your leadership. I just hope your refusal is for the right reasons.” She said stiffly, giving him a pointed look that made him feel guilty.

He knew she was hiding sadness and disappointment when she spoke like this. He braced himself for her next reaction.

“And you’re going to want to make another list.”

 

* * *

 

 **A/N #2-** I decided to make Luna tied to actress Evanna Lynch even more by making her a vegan. It makes sense for Luna to be a vegan too

**  
Thank you for favoriting, following, & reviewing! Let me know what you think! I’m not going to beg for reviews, but I would love to hear from you! I won’t bite, I promise!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-According to an online quiz Neville Longbottom is my soul mate, so there’s that.
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP. This story exists as a loving tribute the world & characters JKR created.
> 
> The memories in this chapter aren't in chronological order, so make sure you pay attention to the dates of the flashbacks!

 

"What?!" Hermione glared down at the letter in her hand. "Oh no, no, no, no." She stood up abruptly, her chair loudly knocking against the kitchen's wood floor and quickly pocketed her wand. She made her way to the parlor fireplace, grabbing floo powder, and disappearing from her cottage in a green flash as she said "Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London."

Inside the Ministry she darted to the Wizardry Registration office. She flung open the doors, her exasperation at the contents of the letter propelling her forward with the intensity of a mad woman.

"Lavender, hi. I need to look up an address for someone I have to get in touch with right away," she stated quickly and matter-of-factly.

Lavender looked up from her receptionist desk, not at all surprised by Hermione's abrupt greeting. "Hi, Hermione, it's good to see you too. How are you doing?" she gave Hermione a cheeky smile, but her eyes showed her annoyance.

"Yes, I'm doing fine, I'll be better once I have this address. How are you? Good I hope. Can you please let me into the records room?" Hermione's eyes and tone were impatient.

She hoped her leverage as a former Ministry employee would grant her easy access to the records.

Lavender just rolled her eyes at Hermione's rude impatience. "Who is it? I can look it up."

"Uhh."

Lavender's eyes bulged as she gaped at Hermione's secretive nature. "This is LITERALLY all I do most of the day, Hermione. Plus, you don't work here anymore, I'm not supposed to let non-employees back there."

"Ok, fine. I need Severus Snape's summer address." Hermione couldn't help but blush at the look Lavender shot her.

Swiveling slowly in her chair Lavender retreated to the locked records room silently. She returned a couple of minutes later with a slip of paper revealing an address written in her neat calligraphy. Lavender always made sure her handwriting was flawlessly elegant. She raised her eyebrows at Hermione as she slid the piece of paper across the counter.

"Soooo, the rumors are true then? You and Snape?"

"Rumors? What rumors?" Hermione feigned ignorance but remembered Angelina's insinuations at the wedding.

"That you guys are more than just friends?"

"Well, one, if we were more than just friends wouldn't I already know this address instead of needing to come here and ask you? And two, it doesn't even seem like we're really friends at all if I can't just ask him myself for his address."

Lavender pouted, disappointed by the truth.

Hermione grabbed the paper and darted from the room, eager to get away from the awkward encounter. She looked down at the address and decided she'd need to take a Muggle mode of transportation, much to her annoyance. She didn't want to waste time with slower transportation methods but she had no choice. She apparated to the train station and purchased a ticket for the next departing train.

Over an hour later Hermione found herself on Spinner's End, looking at a row of brick houses. It appeared to be a working class neighborhood. Smog lazily hung low over the town, polluting the air. She heard the sounds of heavy machinery a few blocks away. She gathered her surroundings in her memory so that she could easily apparate back if need be.

She looked back down at the paper for the house number Lavender wrote down and walked down the street until she found herself at his front door, knocking.

No response.

She waited a minute and then knocked again.

Still nothing.

Sighing she crossed the street again, trying to gather as much about this place in her memory as possible so that she could easily apparate back again.

* * *

 

McGonagall sank into the plush armchair in her office, cradling her head in her right hand. She sighed, clamping her eyes shut, knowing what was coming.

"Minerva…" Dumbledore's voice rumbled out like thunder.

"I know. I've made a mistake."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Neither one of them will talk to me about it. They were becoming friends and then right after Harry's wedding they weren't. Not even fighting. Just no interaction. Although I can tell it's Snape that's keeping his distance. I caught Hermione sneaking looks at him in our last staff meeting and he showed up just as I began and left right after. I'm sorry Albus."

"Hmm."

"The prophecy...it's still bound to happen, right?"

"Certain elements will as long as all the pieces fall into place, I still believe the wizarding world is headed for more turmoil. But his redemption won't unless he initiates and fulfills his role. A prophecy is still contingent on the pieces playing their parts."

She nodded wearily, remembering the first conversation she and Dumbledore had concerning the prophecy.

Flashback to April 29, 1998, one day after Trelawney's prophecy~

_"But why her, Albus?"_

_"Because she is naturally suited for him."_

_"How so?"_

_"Think of his only friend when he was a student at Hogwarts."_

_"Lily Evans." McGonagall didn't miss a beat, the answer right on the tip of her tongue._

_"Indeed. Hermione resembles Lily in certain ways, does she not?"_

_"Yes…in a few ways. But she's vastly different in other ways."_

_"And perhaps those other ways are the ingredients for a better match."_

_"Albus Dumbledore…are you playing matchmaker?"_

_"I never said anything about a romantic match," but she caught a suspicious twinkle in his eye._

_"But she's SO young."_

_"Right now, yes. But she's always been more mature than her fellow students…even the older pupils. Plus, I daresay she may have gained a year with that Time-Turner," he winked._

_"But the prophecy said 'she'll go against her will' when the dark lord comes. How do we know she'll stay or be successful?"_

_"I have made provisions to keep her there if she were to try to flee."_

_"You're not going to put her deliberately in harm's way are you? Albus, she's a student…" McGonagall gave him a concerned look._

_"She's 18, well over a year of being a considered an adult in the wizarding world."_

_"But if it's against her will…"_

_"I foresee she will want to help him, but will be caught off guard and nervous and that's why it appears to be 'against her will'."_

_"Scared is more like it. Having her life on the line confronting Voldemort." McGonagall raised her eyebrows. She was growing angry with the way Dumbledore was intervening, putting her favorite pupil at risk. He always seemed to have a knack for endangering students and brushing it off as inconsequential, "for the good of the whole" he'd say._

_"They will survive. Think about the prophecy as a whole. We know they survive until whatever happens seven years from now."_

_"How much of this did you orchestrate, Albus?" McGonagall sat back in her chair in a huff._

_"Some, not all. Let's just say the stars aligned and gave me perspective."_

* * *

 

"Hermione?" A soft female voice called out.

Hermione jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She had been staring wearily at Snape's house from across the street for the last few minutes.

"Cho?" Hermione said, amazed to find another familiar face associated with this town, this neighborhood. Cho Chang was carrying a large brown paper bag of what Hermione assumed to be groceries. "You live around here?" Hermione surveyed the street.

"I do. Well, temporarily. It's part of my assignment for Muggle Studies. The department wanted me to cover an industrial town."

"Oh. Wow. Good for you. I had no idea you went into the Muggle Liaison Department." Cho smiled sweetly. "We haven't exactly stayed in touch much."

"Right. Sorry. I-"

"Oh, it's ok. I needed some space after Hogwarts and…everything." Cho laughed cautiously.

"So," Hermione looked back towards Snape's house. "Did you know Snape lives here?"

"Yes. We see each other every once and a while. We never really talk or anything, but he always nods at me. You know, any kind of acknowledgement other than a scowl is nice."

Hermione grunted. "Yeah."

"What are you doing here?" It was Cho's turn to question.

"Oh. Well I needed to talk to him about something. I'm teaching at Hogwarts now-" She began to explain quickly, but Cho cut her off.

"Oh, yes, I thought I had heard that. Congrats!"

"Thank you," she replied softly. An awkward silence fell between the girls, the small talk growing stagnant.

“He wasn’t home,” Hermione felt the need to explain.

“Oh.” Cho nodded, followed by another awkward pause. "Umm…well I should probably get these groceries inside." Cho shifted the bag again. She gave Hermione a small smile.

Hermione focused her attention back on Cho as she had been peering at Snape’s house. She bid Cho farewell and decided that she'd come back to Spinner's End in a few days. Snape wouldn't be able to evade her forever.

* * *

 

Flashback to January 1998, 3 months before Trelawney's prophecy~

_Dumbledore turned the page of thick yellowed parchment, his eyes steady on the symbols as his mind quickly translated the Ancient Runes. With the tip of his index finger he lightly traced over the astrological sign of the Capricorn while he paused his reading to contemplate the significance of the symbols. He had perhaps just found the answer to one of his most pressing concerns._

_Dumbledore's gaze moved away from the symbols to his blackened hand. It was only a matter of time before he succumbed to death in one way or another. Marvolo Gaunt's ring had done its damage before it was destroyed as a Horcrux. When he had held it, the power had been too great, too intoxicating. He had yanked it off, shouting to Harry to destroy it before either one of them could cave into its power. That happened just before the current school year began. Dumbledore had gone to Snape to show him his damaged hand, he didn't trust anyone else with this dark magic, nor did he want Harry to know. Snape gave him until the next summer to live, if he was lucky to last that long, so now Dumbledore raced against time to find answers; answers to aid Harry in defeating Voldemort and answers to his other, equally important and most secretive, mission._

_He stood up, making his way around his desk and grabbed his cloak, with smooth fluid motions. Casting a warming spell over his person he made his way out into the frigid winter air, towards the Forbidden Forest, amongst the trees coated in frost. His steps barely left any indent in the snow, almost as if he was floating to his destination. He greeted Grawp as he passed him in the forest but kept up his quick pace, determination written across his face._

_Finally he stopped near a small clearing in the trees. Cupping his right hand around his mouth he made a deliberate signaling sound and then waited for a few moments. He smiled warmly when he saw the creature he waited for._

_"Firenze."_

_The Centaur stepped forward cautiously. "What can I do for you, headmaster?"_

_"Have they not let you back into the herd yet?" Dumbledore questioned gently._

_"No." Firenze stared down at the ground with a mix of anger and sadness._

_"They will, of this I'm sure." Dumbledore paused briefly. "I've come to ask some questions about astrology and something I read in an Ancient Runes text I've been studying. Do you mind?"_

_Firenze_ _sighed, shifting his bright blue eyes back up to Dumbledore's face. "Centaurs and humans don't interpret the stars in the same way, sir," his voice resigned. "I will not be much help to you."_

_"I know, I know. I've come to ask…more basic questions. I don't expect a personal chart or specific prediction. That I'm trying to do on my own."_

_Firenze nodded, still looking reserved about the issue, but when Dumbledore began walking Firenze followed him and eventually fell into pace with the headmaster._

_"Something troubles you?" Firenze asked solemnly._

_"Many things trouble me. Are you prepared for the dark lord?"_

_Firenze bowed his head, his blonde hair slipping around the sides of it. "Yes."_

_"Good. Good. I have been researching many things as of late. Harry Potter and I have our own mission to attend to, but…my other concern is trying to save a loyal servant. Someone who has put his life on the line countless times."_

_"Is he going to die?" Firenze questioned curiously._

_"Yes, I do believe he will. But my wanting to save him goes beyond just saving his life, physically. I want him to find redemption and happiness. Love. These things he hasn't had much of in life, he's a tortured soul. I think, if he were to be saved physically, but not redeemed, not loved and cared for, it wouldn't matter at all. He would prefer to die."_

_"I see."_

_"I've been researching ways to find this saving grace, this redemption for him. In the ancient text I read that if his astrological sign aligns with another this union would bring balance and harmony to them both. I know that Centaurs read the stars for major world events and not for interpersonal reasons, but I was wondering if you could confirm that what this text said could be true so that I may know I'm on the right path."_

_"It was an Ancient Runes text on the stars?" Firenze asked with interest._

_"Yes."_

_"Centaurs do have a deep appreciation for the ancient texts. They bear a lot of wisdom and knowledge. I believe that what you read there is accurate."_

_Dumbledore nodded, his eyes filled with silent triumph._

_"May I ask what signs you're looking at?"_

_"The Capricorn needs saving." Dumbledore withheld the second piece of information, wondering if Firenze might continue to confirm the Runes text without knowing what Dumbledore had found. This tactic proved to be useful._

_"Ah. Capricorn…his harmony comes slowly, with resistance you could even say. While not naturally drawn to the Virgo, this pairing will yield the most solid and favorable results. They are both layered and complicated personalities. Stubborn and inquisitive. If, and when, they discover each other they be able to satiate their curious nature as they peel back each other's layers. They represent mystery to each other. They will be naturally drawn to unraveling that mystery. In an academic sense, they are like a mathematical equation, waiting to be solved. Their signs are both earth signs, once there is a bond between the two it will be close and steadfast. Kindred spirits, you might say."_

_"The text referred to them as the Sage and the Healer." Dumbledore's heart was greatly comforted and encouraged by Firenze's analysis._

_"Correct. Wisdom and healing. That pairing is powerful."_

_"Am I overreaching when I interpret the Healer as an emotional healer, rather than just physical?"_

_"I believe it can be interpreted as both."_

_"But it seems they are not naturally drawn to each other."_

_"I believe they can be drawn to one another, but because both signs are resistant and stubborn by nature, they may need more prodding to find and acknowledge each other than other signs do."_

_"I see. Thank you, Firenze, this has been most enlightening."_

* * *

 

"Hey! Hey!" Harry increased his volume his second attempt to catch Draco's attention, quickening his pace towards the long legged blonde. Ron struggled to keep up with either of them as Draco made his way down Diagon Alley.

"Gee, Potter, can't seem to keep yourself away from me, eh? Well I hate to break it to you but you're not my type." Draco smirked and turned away again.

"Draco! What were you doing outside of The Coffin House at midnight last night?" Harry was breathing hard.

Draco turned around slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Why are you following me at midnight?" he said through grit teeth.

"I'm just doing my job."

Draco snorted. "Wow, I can tell they really value you as an Auror. They don't even give you the good assignments. Just following around an old classmate." He shook his blonde head and chuckled. Ron eyed him wearily.

"I saw you in Knockturn Alley last night and you specifically stopped at The Coffin House-"

"The Coffin House is closed at midnight so there's no way you can accuse me of going in there."

"But you had interest in it! I saw you look in the window," Harry was starting to get flustered, his face reddening.

"So? Something caught my eye. I didn't break in or steal anything."

"What caught your eye?"

"That's none of your bloody business, Potter. As far as I know I'm not under a formal investigation, nor is this a formal questioning so what I choose to look at in my free time is my own damn business."

"Why were you even in Knockturn Alley so late?"

Draco groaned. "Damnit Potter, you are a relentless bastard, you know that? I was having drinks at The White Wyvern. And not that it's any of your business but I'll even tell you who I was with to prove my alibi! I was having drinks with Professor Snape. There, happy? Now go fuck off." Draco turned away again.

"We're opening a formal investigation on you, Malfoy," Harry said calmly. Shock and confusion crossed Ron's face for a few seconds, as he had never been one to master a poker face.

"What the fuck!?" Several people stopped and began curiously watching now. "I haven't done anything wrong! That's not fair!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if your personal and family background makes you a conspicuous target. How unfair," sarcasm dripped from Harry's tone. "Well you know what, someone once told me life wasn't fair and I think you should also take note!"

Harry had walked forward and now stood glaring up at Draco who stood a couple of inches taller. Both of them were sizing each other up, sneering and huffing out of anger and a long history of bitterness.

"Why don't you go home and fuck your wife instead of following me all over the place? Or better yet, why don't you finally just admit you enjoy cock in your mouth and arse more than her finely toned and smooth body. I bet you don't appreciate her body like you should. Probably can't even make her wet without an arousal spell. Pity she's wasted on you. I always thought she was hot, despite being a Weasley." He shot a disgusted look over Harry's shoulder at Ron, his lips pulled into his usual look of revulsion.

"You son of a bitch!"

Draco saw the blur of Harry's fist just before it hit his eye, Harry's knuckles barreling into his flesh, feeling a crack in his cheekbone.

"Oh hell no. I'm not going to stand around and let myself be assaulted by a pathetic Auror."

Draco threw a punch of his own, but Harry ducked and rammed his body into Draco's torso, pushing him to the ground. As Draco fell backward he grabbed onto Harry, pulling him down too. They began to roll, kneeing each other, throwing punches when they could. At one point Draco pinned Harry down and grabbed his hair, smacking the back of Harry's head into the concrete as Harry yelled out in agony. Draco felt Ron's arms trying to pull him away but he threw him off too. With the distraction, Harry was able to roll and throw Draco down again, kneeing him hard in the stomach.

"Stop you fucking idiots!" Ron yelled out, gathering his senses after his failed attempt to physically pull the two apart, he held out his wand and began to push Harry away from Draco, using magic this time. Draco lay on the ground, holding his stomach and groaning. Both men were bloodied, bruised, and dirty from rolling around on the street. Their hair and clothing disheveled from the altercation.

"Stop it before a reporter comes, you bloody fool," Ron whispered sharply into Harry's ear. More people had stopped to watch. Harry and Draco eyed each other panting. Ron walked towards Draco and held out his hand, offering to help him up.

"I don't need your help," Draco flinched and slowly rose by himself.

"We're not starting an investigation on you," Ron said firmly. "Harry lied about that."

Draco touched his bottom lip wincing, it was split and bleeding. "You both can fuck off." He turned and hobbled down the street, still clearly in pain.

"C'mon, Rita Skeeter will be here any minute," Ron grabbed Harry's arm and led him away from the crowd. Down an empty alley Ron assessed Harry's wounds, pointing his wand at each one to heal them. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Did you hear what he said about Ginny?"

"Yeah, but you were provoking him way before that. Geeze Harry, you need to get a grip."

"I'm fine," Harry jerked his face away as Ron's wand sparked when he mispronounced the incantation of one of the healing spells.

"Listen mate, you know I don't wanna tell you this, but I think you need some time off, away from this job."

"What do you mean? I just had two weeks off for the wedding and honeymoon." Harry shook his head, frustrated.

"I mean, like maybe paperwork or something. Some time off the streets."

"What?!"

Ron winced as Harry yelled into his face. "Not forever just until things cool down. You've been awfully aggravated the last few months and Ginny said you were dreaming about fighting Draco during the honeymoon."

"How nice of her to blab that. I can't help what happens in my dreams!"

"Robards is probably going to find out about this and he's not gonna be happy at all."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Harry said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be a dick to me, I'm getting tired of reigning you in. I just think if you were to admit to Robards that you need some time away from the streets he may go a little easier on you."

Harry sighed, staring at the ground. "Something is happening and I don't know what, but I'm determined to find out. Dumbledore said there was another prophecy and even Hagrid confirmed it. Just because Voldemort is gone doesn't mean we're safe."

"I know that. And I believe you. But you need to cool it or we're not going to have much luck figuring out what's going on. You go running into every situation with a hot head you're probably just going to make things worse."

"Fine. I'll talk to Robards."

* * *

 

Flashback to February 1998, two and a half months before Trelawney's prophecy~

_"Protego! Ascendio. Petrificus Totalus…Reducto!"A spark flew across the room and the simulated attacker exploded into pieces in a bright flash._

_"Very nice, Ms. Granger. Your form and technique are nearly perfect."_

_Hermione turned around, looking guilty as her eyes met Dumbledore's. "I'm sorry, sir. I just wanted to use the Room of Requirement to get some extra practice in."_

_"Of course. You're not in trouble. I respect the Room's decision to open itself to you."_

_She nodded at him, brushing her curls away from her face. "I just want to be prepared when the day comes."_

_"I have no doubt you will be. You've left quite an impression on Professor Snape."_

_Hermione scoffed. A wardrobe popped into existence at her silent request, the room continuing to bend to her will. The Boggart inside of it clamored around, pushing against the wood to be released._

_"I didn't think anyone impressed Professor Snape." Hermione readied her wand, moving one foot back in a defensive stance, her eyes concentrating on the wardrobe._

_"You're quite right. Not many do. But you have. He thinks very highly of you and your skills."_

_"I don't suppose he'd ever tell me that himself."_

_"Maybe, hopefully, someday he will."_

_"It'll be hard not to suspect a polyjuice potion in use if that were to happen." Hermione joked wryly, still facing the wardrobe. She hoped Dumbledore would leave soon, nervous to face her Boggart in front of him._

_"Severus Snape doesn't have affection for many people, but when he does, it's incredibly powerful and enduring." With that final comment, Dumbledore left the room, his footsteps completely silent._

_Hermione shook her head slightly, blinking hard. **Did he just say 'affection'?**  She released the Boggart, but found herself so distracted she could barely beat it back. A few minutes later she was sitting on the floor, trying to catch her breath.  **Affection. Snape wouldn't have affection for me, that's insane! How did we go from talking about him being 'impressed' to him having 'affection'? No…I must have misheard him.**_

_She tossed and turned that night, her sleep disrupted with fragmented dreams, one of them being the first of many reoccurring nightmares involving a hissing sound and her falling over someone._

* * *

 

Hermione stood across the street, leaning against the corner of another brick house, arms folded across her chest as she patiently waited for the man to leave his house. She had come back the next day; a cloudy, foggy day.

Minutes later, or what seemed like days to Hermione, Snape left his house, buttoning up his black jacket. He hadn't seen her. She crossed over and followed him down the street.

"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice steadily called out.

His body jerked and he turned towards her. "Good Merlin, woman, are you stalking me now?"

She huffed, sputtering for a few seconds before crying out incredulously. "What are you thinking?! When were you going to tell me?!"

"I had no doubt you'd come pester me about it sooner or later."

"What are you thinking?!" she repeated with just as much emotion as the first time. She glared at him.

He closed the gap between them. They were standing very close now, as close as they had been when they shared the dance at Harry's and Ginny's wedding. He looked down his nose at her, his eyes boring into hers.

"I thought I'd go live my life a bit more and leave everyone else alone, like you want."

She looked utterly confused. "What?!"

"You once told me that I didn't have a life of my own, need I remind you?"

"Oh for crying out loud! That was months ago! And I only said it to annoy you!"

"I told you I was thinking of leaving, did you not listen? That day during Quidditch practice. Come, Granger, I thought you were supposed to have a good memory."

"Do you even have a plan? Do you have another job already?" She was still yelling and he saw a neighbor stick his head out of his house, looking for the commotion.

"I'm probably going to do some traveling," he shrugged, lowering his voice and keeping his answers vague. "Why do you care if I resigned?"

"I think it's a bad decision."

"Of course you do. You can't ever seem to keep your nose out of other people's business nor restrain yourself from giving your bossy input."

She shook her head at him. "You are impossible."

 _Good_ , he thought gingerly. "Now I have to get going. I have somewhere to be."

"So this is it?!" she cried out again, throwing her arms up and shrugging.

"This is it." He turned and walked across the street with long strides, desperate to free himself from her. He did not want Hermione to get the wrong idea about him. He was an unlovable, unbearable beast. And Hermione knew better than most how terrible he could be. He couldn't risk her thinking she "could be the one to change him" to "soften him," "reform him," and "tame him." It was impossible.

Dumbledore had been scheming before the battle and now McGonagall seemed to be in on some sort of plan too. Snape knew about the blood affinity he and Hermione shared, although the details were fuzzy. The Healers had explained it to him the day he woke up when his mind wasn't fully functioning yet and he had never asked about it again, upset he shared a bond of any kind with anyone. But he was also disturbed that she had had prophetic dreams before the battle. She had known to come, it hadn't just been happenstance. She had been chosen to come. And he didn't like that. But most alarming was the Muggle song in her head as she tried to protect him. "I've found the one I've waited for"…what the hell was that about? Snape was determined to not be the one she's waited for, no matter their friendship and the fact that he did admire her in a lot of ways and did think she was beautiful. No, he was not the one and she just needed to move right along.

* * *

 

Flashback to February 1998, two and a half months before Trelawney's prophecy~

_Dumbledore came up behind Snape, standing next to him on the second story of the castle over looking the courtyard where Snape had sent his 7th years to practices their DADA spells._

_"I've come to collect Harry."_

_"How long will you be away this time?"_

_"Hopefully not more than a day or two."_

_"The dark lord is becoming impatient. He still lacks the number of supporters he desires, but I don't think he'll wait much longer."_

_The two professors stood in silence observing the students. Hermione stood out among them all; she swiftly defended herself and used the most intricate spells and counter spells out of anyone in the class. Snape's eyes fell on her more often than any of her fellow students, something Dumbledore didn't fail to notice._

_"Ms. Granger is exceptionally strong in her defense skills, I see."_

_When Snape remained silent Dumbledore continued, "Exceptionally bright at all of her studies. Diligent and studious, the 'brightest witch of her age' I've heard some say."_

_Snape let out a faint derisive sound but didn't argue._

_"She reads all of her textbooks over the summer before the term starts. I daresay I only know one other student that eager to learn." Dumbledore chuckled._

_"I didn't read ALL of them over the summer. I never cared much for Care of Magical Creatures and those textbooks," he said obstinately._

_"Muggle born. Gryffindor. Naturally brilliant. Courageous and compassionate. Prepared to sacrifice her life for those she cares about. Remind you of anyone?"_

_Something in Snape's expression shifted at Dumbledore's remark, his eyes grew wistfully sad, a faint sign of yearning emanating from them. But the expression disappeared quickly as Dumbledore only chuckled and patted Snape on the back turning to leave._

_"I want to see you happy, Severus. That is all. Please send Harry to my office when class ends."_

Snape stared into his glass of firewhisky later that evening after he bid Hermione farewell, hopefully for good. His mind was swimming with memories and _feelings._ He grit his teeth, throwing up his Occlumency shields, and drowned the glass of alcohol. He had topped off an entire bottle in one sitting. Slamming the glass down, he stared blankly at the ashes in the fireplace.

 ** _“It’s a terrible love that I’m walking in, it’s quiet company…But I won’t follow you into the rabbit hole.”_** ( _Terrible Love_ by The National)

* * *

 **A/N #2-** Oh Dumbledore…master manipulator. I think we’re pretty much done with the heavy flashblack scenes for now at least. I felt like I was writing for the NBC show “This is Us” in the last chapter & this one with all the flashbacks haha 

 **A/N #3-** I did my research on the astrological signs (multiple sources) for this chapter, so Dumbledore’s & Firenze’s conversation is truly based on Capricorn-Virgo individual signs & compatibility & not just me making up stuff to fit the story (whew, I wanted to incorporate astrology more because you don’t see it a lot in other SSHG stories, but imagine my relief when I found that these 2 signs could work as a “kindred spirits” pairing! If they couldn’t I would have been scrambling! lol)

 

 **CHAPTER 13 TEASER:  
** “Gosh, she’s like Snape 2.0,” a 6th year whispered to his neighbor.

 

 

Terrible Love: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqHdi_94SR4>

 

**Thank you for reading, favoriting, following, & reviewing! It’s probably going to be 2 weeks before I can post Chapter 13….so stay tuned!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer-I don’t own HP & I certainly don’t make any money off this story.
> 
> There was a small plot mistake I made, that a reader on ff.net pointed out, but it's been corrected!

Hermione leaned against a stone wall in the courtyard, watching students mingle. New students oscillated between anxious and excited expressions. Older students darted around, renewing friendships. Hermione couldn’t keep herself from pouting. This was only the second day of the new school year and it already felt too different. What had once seemed bright and exciting to her now seemed gray, dull, and lifeless. The spark had gone out. She could barely recall her happier memories from her own school days or the last year.

She saw the new headmaster approaching and straightened, wiping the frown from her face and trying to replace it with some semblance of an agreeable smile. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Professor Granger. This year is starting out pleasantly, is it not?” He was standing as tall as he could, beaming with pride.

“Indeed,” she tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She didn’t have anything against this headmaster. She just wished it was Snape.

“You keep your Gryffindors in line, now. Not too much mischief.” He took out his pocket watch on its gold chain and peered at it before tucking it back away into his ivory waist coast. 

“Of course, Headmaster Flitwick,” she gave him a small smile, although her eyes screamed sadness. He didn’t pick up on it, but moved away to greet some more students.

She slouched against the wall again. _Flitwick as headmaster, God help us all,_ she thought sourly. She supposed he had some good characteristics to bring to the job, as a Ravenclaw and being well familiar with Hogwarts; but she thought back his struggles to keep the Weasley twins in line and the time he was caught up and passed among the students, unintentionally crowd surfing at the Yule Ball, waving his arms wildly in protest. She had thought it had been a joke when she heard he was replacing McGonagall.

 _It should be Snape_ , she thought bitterly. _This was going to be a long year…_

At least she had Harry nearby this year. McGonagall’s last decision as headmistress was to hire Harry to fill Snape’s position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And while she was grateful to have her friends near, she still had a sadness she couldn’t shake…

* * *

Luckily for Harry, very little information about his brawl with Draco leaked to the public, only a few amused eyewitness accounts and no visual documentation. Harry was able to negotiate with Robards to keep his job, but like Ron had advised, Harry asked to be “taken off the streets” for the time being. Robards, not wanting to lose “the boy who lived” and one of his best Aurors, agreed under the condition that Harry would not pursue any investigation of Draco in the future.

A few days later Ron enthusiastically barged into Harry’s flat, while Harry and Ginny were in the middle of a passionate make out session on the sofa, luckily with their clothes still on. Ron waved a memo from Hogwarts in Harry’s face as Harry fumbled around looking for his glasses, his hair a mess.

“Look! This couldn’t be any more perfect for you right now!” Ron said excitedly, his face flushed.

Harry grabbed the memo, trying to concentrate on it as he pulled himself together, his body still desperately wanted to be plastered against his wife’s again. Ginny sat up, smoothing her hair, and gave her brother an icy look, less willing than Harry to be patient with Ron’s interruption.

“Geeze, Ron, ever heard of knocking?”

“Geeze, Ginny, ever heard of a lock if you didn’t want to be disturbed?” Ron shot back.

“Hogwarts is looking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Harry ignored their banter. “Wait…what happened to Snape?”

“I dunno, but this is good news for you!”

“Why?” Harry repositioned his crooked glasses, still staring at the memo.

Ron gaped at his friend. “Why?! Because you should have this job, that’s why! This would be far better than just doing paperwork for Robards!”

Ginny leaned over Harry’s shoulder to look at the memo now. “He’s got a point, no matter how lousy his timing to make it is,” she said, shooting another annoyed look at her brother. He stuck his tongue out at her.

Harry didn’t look excited by the prospect at all. “But I don’t want to quit my Auror job.”

A moment of silence fell on all three of them as Ron mulled over an idea, pulling his mouth to the side and biting his bottom lip.

“What if you could do both? I mean, you’re already off the streets, but what if you could come in a couple of days of the week and do your Auror duties and then teach the rest of the days?”

Ginny cocked her head to the side, giving her husband a thoughtful look. “That’s actually a good idea. Teaching would be far more stimulating and you have all the best qualifications.”

“And you liked teaching all of us in the D.A.!” Ron added, his face excited once again.

Harry began to nod his head slowly. “True. We’d have to move to Hogsmeade, are you up for that?” He turned towards Ginny.

“Of course, I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth, Harry Potter.”

And so the next day Harry met with McGonagall, much to Ron’s disappointment who wanted Harry to go meet with the headmistress right then and there when he presented the memo. McGonagall had been thrilled with Harry’s interest and brought him back the very next day to meet with the other faculty members. A compromise was made between Harry, Robards, and McGonagall that Harry would teach DADA classes Monday through Thursday. On Friday mornings he would hold advising for NEWT students, followed by an Auror shift on Friday night and Saturday. Sunday would be his only day off. Robards and McGonagall were both pleased to have Harry promote the Auror career at the school, seeing how fewer and fewer people were applying to be Aurors in the last few years, everyone thought this would be an excellent way to increase interest in the job.

Harry and Ginny moved to Hogsmeade in August, settling in a cozy little house on the outskirts of the village, nothing like their posh London flat, but they loved it just the same and were excited to be near Hermione again.

* * *

Hermione paced her classroom looking rather displeased. Her hair was pinned up into a messy bun on the top of her head, dark circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep, and a hard look in her eyes. Recently she had taken up a scowl too. In her most irritable moods, which seemed to becoming more frequent as the weeks passed, she’d snap at the students when they made errors during class and leave snide remarks on their essays. Gone were the days when she gave gentle criticism and warm encouragement to her pupils. As of this moment she was barking out orders, like a military sergeant, as the students cowered at the tone of her voice.

“Gosh, she’s like Snape 2.0,” a 6th year whispered to his neighbor, unfortunately not quiet enough for upon hearing him, Hermione slapped the back of their heads with a stack of essays she was reviewing. _Oh my God, I am like Snape!_ She realized with horror. She grew a little dizzy at the thought.

“Bloody hell!” the boy exclaimed, looking back at her in shock.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for language, Mr. Bray.” She looked at him reprovingly and moved to her desk. She needed to sit down. She needed some wine. She needed some sleep. She tried to regroup but felt herself trembling. It was early October, the 5th week of classes, but she already felt burned out, impatient, and jaded.

“Mr. Crait, please tell us why your group’s potion failed.” She had the students work in small groups every so often to help them build cooperation and communication skills.

“Uhhh…we used…a garlic clove?” Padraig Crait shrugged.

“Wrong!” She held her head in her hand as she pointed at the chalkboard behind her. “You were _supposed_ to use a garlic clove.”

“Ohhhh, because we didn’t mince it!”

“Wrong again.” _Dunderheads_ the thought occurred to her way too readily. _Snape really is in my head!_ She tried to refocus her mind. “Miss Murphy, any ideas?”

Isla Murphy paled even more than her ghostly white complexion normally appeared and looked down into the group’s cauldron with trepidation. She opened her mouth only to close it abruptly, repeating this a second time.

“Look at the consistently of the liquid,” Hermione coached, standing up again and walking to the cauldron. Other students gathered around too, looking interested, trying to figure out what would make Professor Granger the most happy.

“It’s really chunky…” Isla’s thick Irish accent rang out as she stirred the failed potion.

“Mmhmm. Why?” Hermione’s voice had softened just a bit by this point and the students relaxed a little as well, nervous tension around the room somewhat dissipating.

“Ohhhh, it’s because we added too much-“

“No,” Hermione cut Padraig off firmly, tired of his wrong guesses.

“We didn’t turn the heat up high enough and for long enough,” Isla finally realized. “Because our heat was too low the ingredients didn’t meld together and mix well.”

“Correct. I walked past your station several times and never saw the heat turned up as high as the directions indicated. Make sure,” Hermione turned to address the rest of the room, “that you pay attention to ALL the directions, there shouldn’t be any excuses, especially in a group project where you should all be diligently checking. It’s concerning that a mistake like this was made. I would expect something like this from a 1st or 2nd year but surely not a 6th year. Everyone clean up their stations.”

She roamed back to her desk and watched them with dismay as they tidied up and replaced ingredients. After giving the students extra homework for that one group’s blunder, she dismissed them and they filed out of the classroom, their faces gloomy as they left. Hermione stood up stiffly, her body aching from a lack of sleep. She felt just as gloomy as they all looked as she walked to the Great Hall for the noon meal.

Sometimes she’d enter the Great Hall hoping to find his surly face and dark hair. She even missed arguing with him. When was he going to come back? Would he ever visit again? Would he burst into Hogwarts like a bolt of lightening striking its target with impatient ferocity? Would he gaze at her intensely with those smoldering dark eyes? She wouldn’t even mind if he looked at her with anger and vehemence, just as long as he _looked_ at her. She wanted to consume his gaze and not share it with anyone else, especially not pretty Muggle girls. She always chided herself for wondering these _foolish_ questions. _Well the least he could have done was tell me he was seeing someone! He shouldn’t have gone to a wedding with me if he was dating someone else. He should have at least mentioned it!_

She took a seat at the end of the table: Snape’s preferred seat. She had grown accustomed to sitting here-that is, when she even bothered to come to meals-avoiding having two people on either side of her trying to make conversation. She now understood just why Snape preferred this seat.

Keighly entered the Great Hall and grinned when he saw the seat next to Hermione was still open. He swaggered up onto the dais, eyeing her mischievously.  
“Ahh, the elusive Professor Granger. I haven’t seen you around much since the school year began.”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’ve been around,” she mumbled, chewing on a bite of buttered bread.

His lips quirked at her answer and felt compelled to continue his light teasing. “I’ve heard the student body is a bit more afraid of you this year.” He said this in such a way that it wasn’t an accusation, but merely an amusing idea, thinking she had just grown tougher as a teacher after her first year.

“Mmm,” she half hummed, half grunted.

“You miss him don’t you?”

“Who?” She wasn’t pretending she didn’t know who he was referring to, her mind just wasn’t even focused on the conversation to begin with.  
“What do you mean ‘who’? Snape, of course!”

“Oh.” She suddenly lost what little appetite she had before. She dropped the slice of bread on her plate and tugged on the collar of her black teaching robe, feeling hot and claustrophobic. “Eh, I guess. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood up, leaving behind her full plate and snuck out of the Great Hall through the side door that led to a short corridor. She had no idea where this corridor led, having never used that side door before, but she was eager to have some peace before her afternoon classes. She found that it opened outdoors and she breathed in the crisp autumn air. _A walk might be nice._

Although the sun shone without any impeding clouds, the temperature had dropped significantly in the last couple of weeks and Hermione could tell winter was fast approaching. She soaked up the sun, the scenery, the solitude. It calmed her nerves and soothed her soul. She inhaled deeply and took special note of all the colors and shades autumn had to offer. It was such a pleasant experience she decided that she must make a habit of going for longer walks in the future. Just how much of the beautiful Scottish countryside was she missing cooped up indoors all the time?

With great disappointment she realized the noon meal must be almost over and made her way back inside.

* * *

Elizabeth Bretton winced as she approached Hermione in the hallway later that afternoon. The second year Gryffindor prepared herself for a stern or worse, biting remark from her favorite teacher as she fell into step next to Hermione.

“Professor Granger?” her voice soft and quiet.

Hermione seemed startled, not having noticed Elizabeth at her side. “Hi Miss Bretton. Is everything alright? You look affright.”

“Uhmm, I was just wondering if…well…” Elizabeth’s face reddened, “do you still like teaching us?” she burst out, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, nervous what kind of reaction her forward question would elicit from Hermione.

“Yes, of course I still like teaching.” Hermione’s eyebrows pinched together as she furrowed them, the crease between her eyes deepening.

“Ok, I was just…well…you just seem upset at us a lot this year and some of us were wondering what we did wrong. I mean, if there was anything that we did aside from just messing up in class and on assignments.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. She felt awful that she couldn’t seem to control her sour mood around the students. She wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder, which only made the 12-year-old stiffen with caution.

“I have been rather unpleasant lately haven’t I?” Hermione’s eyes roamed around the hallway while Elizabeth kept her body erect, her face panicked, unsure how to answer such a loaded question.

“Look,” Hermione stopped walking and turned Elizabeth towards her, holding onto her shoulders. “My mood has been poor at times. It has _nothing_ to do with you guys. You’re students, you’re all still learning and will mess up and make mistakes. I need to learn how to control my emotions better, apparently. But it has nothing to do with the student body. I will work on being more…gentle, ok?”

Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, nodded, her bottom lip quivering.

“Oh come here,” Hermione wrapped the girl in an affectionate hug.

Hermione put extra effort into trying to maintain a more pleasant demeanor, in the classroom at least, after the talk with Elizabeth. She still struggled to keep her hopeless attitude in check, but for the most part she began to rebuild the trust she had had with the students.

* * *

“Did you hear?” Neville caught up to Ron as the latter was making his rounds at Azkaban.

“Hear what?”

“Some more Dementors were spotted earlier today,” Neville’s face and voice equally grim.

“Are you serious? What the bloody hell is going on!?”

“I dunno, but it’s freaky isn’t it?”

“Where were they spotted?”

“Just east of Norwich.”

Ron groaned. “Don’t tell Harry, he’s been agitated enough as it is.”

“I won’t, but he’ll probably find out anyway. Do you think they had anything to do with the breakout attempt last year?”

“Fuck…I never thought about that,” Ron had paled by this point.

“Well that one was spotted that night it happened.”

“Blast!” Ron exclaimed. “We’ve done a piss poor job sorting everything out haven’t we?”

Neville shrugged, looking around like he was suddenly afraid they were being spied on. “Harry’s still sayin’ if we could just change the Wizengamot laws we’d have the answers by now. You know, using Legilimency.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter if he agreed with Harry or not, the Wizengamot didn’t seem likely to change their policies.

They turned a corner and nodded cordially at a new Auror sitting at a desk. Passing half way down the corridor they resumed their conversation quietly.

“I guess I could see why the Dementors would want to take back Azkaban, but it doesn’t really answer how they would have helped the prisoners try to break out that night.” Ron thought back to the locks that had been turned to open without any damage and the two prisoners who they had been escorting at the time trying to wrestle them for their wands.

“I dunno, big mystery. At least things have been calmer lately.”

Ron looked up at Neville, who now stood at least a sturdy 6’0 in height. “Yeah, kinda, but I guess I wouldn’t really call a Dementor sighting ‘calmer,’” Ron muttered.

* * *

October bled into November, and still no sign or word of Snape. Hermione grabbed her mail that had been delivered earlier at breakfast and retreated back to her room as she riffled through it. A postcard from her parents who were traveling on safari in Africa; an advertisement promoting a new line of enchanted makeup that highlights when a woman is ovulating, therefore attracting more men. _Gross!_ Hermione pulled a face and threw the advertisement in the trash.

A third letter came in an elegant shimmering envelope. She opened it to find a wedding announcement, with a moving image of Neville and Luna staring at each other affectionately, while he stroked her cheek, then moving to look out from the picture, smiling at Hermione. On the back scrawled the wedding information in elegant cursive calligraphy.

“Well that was quick.”

She tossed it aside. She wanted to be excited for them, she really did. But now was not the time for her to be bombarded by everyone else’s love. She flopped down on her bed, feeling miserable. Why would Snape leaving affect her this much? It was absurd.

She was startled by the realization that when she thought about Snape she felt a deep, dull ache. It was more than a feeling. It was actually physical too. Thinking of him caused her heart to contract. She had never experienced anything like this before. She had never felt this intense about a personal relationship.

She moved her hand up her stomach and over one of her clothed breasts. Tears clouded her vision and slipped down her temples, coating her ears as she stared up at her ceiling. She hadn’t had any kind of sex drive for months. She felt dry and withered. She even tried to remember sex with Oliver but her body was non-responsive. She thought about the fantasies that used to arouse her, but her body, mind, and heart still refused to play along.

_What is happening to me?_

_You fell for him, you stupid girl._

_Fell for him?_

_You started falling in love with him, don’t be daft Hermione, you know it’s true!_

The realization hit her like a train at full speed. The tears streamed down the sides of her face now, drenching her hair. Her stomach shook as her breathing grew more irregular, her lungs contracting sharply with each sob. It was an uncontrollable, ugly cry; pent up aggression bursting out of her like a volcano erupting with emotion. Finally the hiccups set in as her lungs gave up and just began spasming. She rolled over onto her side, into the fetal position, trying to cradle herself.

_It can’t be._

_We were just friends._

_It just can’t be._

Hermione stood up abruptly. She needed to get control of herself and it wasn’t going to happen here, in the privacy of her room. She grabbed her purse and coat and disapparated.

* * *

“Hermione?”

“What?!” Hermione snapped. _Who is bothering me here of all places?_ She turned and saw Ginny wince. Guilt instantly crept into her heart, first for not keeping her word to Elizabeth that she’d try harder to be more congenial and second, for practically biting off the head of one of her best friends.

“Uhmm, sorry…I can leave you alone.”

“No, sorry. Just a long week.” Hermione sat at the bar counter at Hog’s Head, a frosty mug of Butterbeer in front of her. She rubbed her forehead and patted the stool next to her. Ginny sat down, shooting Hermione a wary look. Hermione’s eyes were red rimmed and slightly swollen.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. I even went to the library to ask Madam Pince if you were there.”

Hermione scoffed. “I’ve had my fill of dunderheads for the time being, no use in dragging out my agony being around them anymore than I have to.”

Ginny chuckled. “It’s a Saturday night, I highly doubt any of the dunderheads are in the library. Probably only the _obnoxious know-it-alls_.” She nudged Hermione, hoping to make her friend smile at least. It worked, Hermione cracked a small smile.

“How did you know to find me here?” Hermione asked softly.

“Well after arguing with Filch to let me in to Hogwarts, I told him I was looking for Harry by the way,” Ginny’s cheeks flushed slightly as she recounted her lie. “and pretty much looking everywhere else here in Hogsmeade, I remembered that you said you and Snape would come here sometimes and I kinda just figured...” Ginny let her voice trail off.

“Oh.” Hermione stared down into the liquid in her glass.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“You just don’t seem yourself lately,” Ginny confessed, unwilling to recount all the specific ways Hermione seemed different as of late, which would probably just irritate Hermione even more.

Hermione shrugged. “I’m fine.” She took a sip of her Butterbeer.

“Wanna go back to my place and talk? I miss you anyway. We live so close now and still hardly see each other.” When Hermione hesitated to answer Ginny continued, “Harry’s working overnight tonight. Took a security shift at Azkaban.”

Hermione agreed, albeit still a bit reluctantly.

Ginny motioned to the bartender to order, but Hermione stopped her. “We can go now. I didn’t really want this to begin with, just felt bad sitting here without ordering.” She stood, putting her coat on. They walked to Harry and Ginny’s house in silence.

“Chocolate?” Ginny pointed her wand at the fireplace as she passed it, a fire springing up.

“Eh.” Hermione threw her coat across a chair.

“I think chocolate is in order. Sit,” Ginny ordered, her motherly bossy side coming out. Hermione smirked as she obeyed, plopping down on the sofa. “Ok, Molly!” she called out, knowing that would rustle Ginny’s feathers. She heard Ginny snort from the kitchen.

Ginny returned with both her arms filled with a large selection of sweets.

“Good God, Ginny, have you been stocking up in case all of the U.K. runs out of sweets?”

“Yes,” Ginny sniffed, pretending to be offended, following along with Hermione’s jest. “Ok, you got your chocolate covered berries, caramel chocolates, chocolate brittle, dark chocolate, white chocolate, and you plain old boring milk chocolate.” Ginny spread them across the coffee table in front of the couch before settling into a comfortable position. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, studying Hermione’s face. There was no denying it. Something was off. Harry had reported what the students were saying.

“What’s going on? And don’t lie. You’re agitated by something.”

Hermione sighed, unwrapping a piece of dark chocolate and slumping down on the couch. She chewed slowly, avoiding eye contact with Ginny.

“Is it because Snape is gone?” Ginny tried, reaching for some white chocolate.

“Maybe,” Hermione said so quietly Ginny could barely tell she responded at all.

Ginny remained quiet for a minute, her tongue preoccupied with dislodging some chocolate from between two molars. She wanted to get Hermione to talk, but knew she’d only be responsive if Ginny didn’t pry too much.

“You guys were getting pretty close, yeah?”

“I thought so,” Hermione shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Do you know why he left?”

“He said he was tired of teaching and wanted to travel. But I don’t know. Everything seemed fine until after your wedding. And then he just closed himself off.”

Ginny observed her friend’s body language. Hermione was equally as closed off right now, clearly feeling upset, but uncomfortable verbalizing it. Dare she ask if something romantic had happened? Ginny knew that’d probably end the conversation. She needed to feel it out a bit more.

“Was he really that uncomfortable at the wedding? He seemed ok.”

“I don’t think it was the wedding, except maybe at the end-“ Hermione’s hands flew up to her mouth, her eyes grew large with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to reveal anything about dancing with him.

 _Steady,_ Ginny felt like she was trying to calm a spooked horse. “Did he try to kiss you?”

Hermione flushed a deep red as she shook her head. “No, we just danced.” Hermione looked far too guilty for it to be just a dance.

“Oh, well that’s not weird. I mean, I guess it is, Professor Snape dancing! I can’t even imagine. I wish I could have seen it. Was it awkward or something?”

“No it was…really nice.” Hermione looked down at her hands, her blush deepening.

“Oh…” Ginny’s chewing slowed. “Huh.”

“But after, when we got back to Hogwarts, I showed him my memory of the day Voldemort came. And that’s when he started acting weird. But I don’t really understand what exactly made him avoid me after that. And then he resigned.”

“Interesting…Have you seen him since?”

“Once. I went to Spinner’s End.”

“Spinner’s End?”

“His summer home.” She sighed. “He acted so mad at me. I don’t understand.”

“You really started to care about him, didn’t you?” Ginny asked gently.

Shrugging one shoulder, Hermione rolled her eyes as tears betrayed her body language. “It doesn’t matter.”

The girls ate chocolate quietly for awhile. Ginny was almost 100% sure Hermione had developed _romantic_ feelings for their former professor. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Hermione looked at Snape that night during karaoke; the way Hermione began to pull away from Oliver once she started working at Hogwarts and becoming friends with Snape.

Maybe Snape had caught on and Hermione’s feelings were unrequited? It was a strange thing to think about Hermione falling for Snape. On one hand it seemed so ridiculous. He had always been so cross and actually _mean_ to them as their teacher. But on the other hand it seemed natural for her to be drawn to him. He was one of the most intelligent people any of them had ever met, older and more mature, and something about his quiet ways seemed like he would appeal to Hermione. Ginny, herself, had come to enjoy his presence in their group, like she had expressed to him at the wedding, and did feel a small loss without him around anymore. Ginny’s heart ached for Hermione.

“Hermione?”

“I _don’t_ want to talk about it anymore.”

“Ok.”

* * *

“I’m worried about Hermione. Did you notice anything weird about her behavior while she was here?”

John Granger shifted under the bed sheets, knowing his wife already worried nonstop about their daughter since 1998. Hermione’s brief one day visit on Christmas certainly wasn’t going to alleviate any of Susan’s anxiety.

“She seemed distracted,” he agreed.

“Ever since she started teaching at Hogwarts she’s seemed different. Last year she was upset and having some conflict with another professor. But this year she was just so sullen. She wouldn’t even talk to me about anything beyond superficial things. It’s like she’s in this funk and can’t seem to dig herself out of it.”

“What was going on last year?”

“Didn’t you notice? She was a little withdrawn and pensive. Not as much as this year, but definitely not her normal self.” 

“Hmmph,” John never seemed to catch on very quickly when there was something bothering the ladies in his life. “Maybe she’s still getting over Oliver?” John offered.

“Maybe…” Susan remained unconvinced. “I just have a weird feeling there’s something else going on.”

“Well did you ask her anything specific?”

“I _tried_ , but she just brushed it off like it was nothing.” She shifted underneath the covers, making the sheets rustle in the silence of the night.

John leaned over to press an affectionate kiss on his wife’s temple. “She’ll come to us when she’s ready to talk if there’s something bothering her.”

“I’m just beginning to feel like maybe teaching at Hogwarts isn’t the right place for her.”

* * *

It was New Years Day and snow fell softly outside the Great Hall’s windows. People lined the walls, smiling approvingly as Neville and Luna shared their first dance as a married couple; an intricate and unique dance they had practiced for weeks prior, complete with chasses, flick kicks, snapping and clapping, arm work that looked like it was more out of a Bollywood film than anything, and lots of spinning. Luna’s idea, no doubt.

Harry stood behind Ginny, his arms wrapped around her, his chin propped on her shoulder. “Good job, Neville,” he cooed.

Ginny laughed. “Why does it somehow feel like we’re watching our own child get married?”

Ron, standing next to them with a pint of beer in his hand, smirked. “Maybe it’s because we had to coach him the whole way through.”

The three chuckled softly. Hermione smiled, but was having a hard time pushing down her sadness. The lump in her throat felt like a large tumor, protruding her airway in a most unwelcome way. She couldn’t help but feel sad, wishing that Snape was her date to this wedding as well.

Cho joined their group, sipping a glass of champagne. She wore a long plum purple dress that flowed elegantly against her slim body. Hermione and Ginny, as bridesmaids, wore bright vermillion orange-red dresses; Luna had insisted that despite the winter season everything else about the wedding would be as bright and warm as possible.

“I think it’s so sweet they chose to get married here at Hogwarts,” Cho commented looking around the room that had white twinkling lights strung up across the ceiling.

“It’s perfect,” Ginny agreed, grinning and hugging Harry’s arms which were still wrapped around her chest.

“Cho, I heard you were dating a Muggle guy now?” Ron asked, sipping his beer. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione turned towards the Ravenclaw with curious expressions. She just bowed her head and smiled shyly.

“I am, it’s new.”

“Does he know you’re a witch?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, but I’ve only disclosed small amounts of information so far. He’s interested but nervous I suppose you could say.”

“Does he know what your job for the Ministry is?” Hermione questioned.

“He only knows I’m a researcher.” Cho’s answer pulled Hermione out of her unwanted imaginary scenarios, confusing her at first until she realized she had questioned Cho in the first place.

Ginny, Ron, and Harry nodded in amusement. “Well good for you, Cho. I hope it works out,” Ron said, giving her his quintessential lopsided smile.

“I’m going to get more food,” Hermione dismissed herself, trying to hide her sour attitude. She meandered over to the appetizer table, looking around at the assortment of fruits, vegetables, dips, and desserts. Luckily they had served both vegan and non-vegan options.

“Hey there, you look fantastic,” a silky smooth voice in her ear made Hermione’s frown deepen, as she instantly recognized the voice that sent shivers down her spine and NOT in a good way. She turned to find Cormac McLaggen’s eyes roaming up and down her body, full of lust. “I heard you and Wood were no longer an item. Thought I’d see if you were in need of some comfort.” He brushed some of her curls off her shoulder, his fingers stroking her skin as he did so.

“It’s been seven months, McLaggen, I think I’m well over it.”

“Ah, good. So you’re ready to date again?” To just about any other girl his smile would be considered completely charming, but it made Hermione cringe. She had a flashback to him getting handsy with her under the mistletoe at Slughorn’s Christmas party. She moved away from him.

“Nope.”

“Still playin’ hard to get, eh? A dance at least? C’mon. It’s a wedding and a new year. Give your boy a dance at least.” He held out his arms as she walked away, ignoring him.

She quickly made her way over to Ron, shoving her small plate of appetizers into his stomach and leaning close to him.

“Oww, what was that for?” Ron grabbed the plate and rubbed his stomach with his other hand.

“Quick dance with me so Cormac will leave me alone.”

“What a way to ask.”

She pinched him this time, her eyes threatening. “Just do it.”

“Ow, gosh, ok, ok.”

Ron led her out to the dance floor and pulled her close to his body, humming into her hair which made her relax and giggle. She saw Cormac frown and shove his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks, Ron.”

“Oh, you’re not getting out of this dance that easily!” He hugged her closer, their bodies were practically plastered to each other. Hermione paid attention to any signs that her body was responding to this closeness with Ron. But she felt nothing other than the strong bond of platonic love. No heat or flurries of excitement; nothing that stirred within her like when she danced with Snape.

Ron was also keenly aware of her body pressed against him and while parts of his body certainly liked it, he didn’t sense an overwhelming romantic desire for his friend. Years ago, as school kids, he had crushed on her, but quickly realized that a relationship would probably end up in constant bickering and lectures from her. That realization had dulled any desire he previously felt and he was just happy to have her as a close friend.

He took the opportunity to catch up with her. “I heard you had a rough semester,” he spoke into her hair.

She rolled her eyes at yet another person addressing her change in mood. “It was fine,” she answered stiffly, hoping he’d drop the issue.

“Everything alright?” He pulled back to look at her, examining her eyes thoughtfully.

“Everything is alright. I was just having some sleep problems.” _Not a complete lie,_ she reassured herself.

He looked unconvinced. But just as he opened his mouth the two were interrupted by Luna and her father dancing past them, smiling broadly.

“We’re doing the bunny hop, join us!” Luna cried out. She and her father had already rounded up a few others, forming a line as they hopped around the room, occasionally kicking their legs out to the side. The small group wasn’t coordinated at all and everyone kept kicking and hopping at different times.

Hermione buried her face into Ron’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, as the line continued past them.

“At least some things never change,” she whispered.

* * *

She poured the bubbling mixture into a cylinder, holding it up eyelevel with confident patience. The mixture snapped and bubbled for a minute more before settling. It looked like mucus in the glass tube. She smiled wickedly, her eyes glinting with triumphant delight. _This has to be the one that finally works._

She donned a cloak and brown boots and took her time lacing them up her calves. She had been patient and dedicated, researching constantly for over a year, and now it would all pay off, she was sure of it. She apparated quickly and cast a disillusionment charm when she reached her destination. It was after midnight and the moonlight against the tree branches cast strange shadows across the snow.

She came upon the large mound, the body of the sleeping giant, just like she had all the other times in the middle of the night; all her other attempts to play havoc. She whispered the incantation of the sleeping spell, one of the spells _he_ created. She loved how brilliant his mind was. In truth she secretly harbored a crush on him. A weird, obsessive crush. But more than anything she was fascinated by his mind and the strength of his magic. He was underrated and unappreciated; a gift Hogwarts failed to recognize. Well soon he wouldn’t be. Soon he would have what he deserved.

She repeated the spell a second time. The spell was strong, but Grawp was huge, and she wanted to make sure he stayed asleep as she worked. Once, over a year ago, he had briefly woken up and she was sure she wasn’t going to see the light of day again, but his eyes had only drooped shut, his snore resuming minutes later, much to her relief.

Pulling out some large gloves she also placed a mask over her face, careful to shield herself in any way she could. She worked quickly, taking the mucus like substance and rubbing it all over his face and hands, paying careful attention to his lips and nose, then on the rope that kept him in the woods, and his trinkets that kept him company when Hagrid was not around. She sighed as she lathered the last of the mixture on the bicycle bell, careful not to ring it as she worked.

She looked over her handy work with a smirk of satisfaction. “I’ll be back,” she sang quietly before slipping away into the night.

She did return, five days later, to observe the effects, poking her head out around the large tree she hid behind. Once again Grawp lay prostate, covered in a violent red and purple rash. At first she couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but as she watched she saw slight movements in his back to indicate he was still alive, if only just barely.

She had come in the early morning this time, hoping to see if Hagrid would be checking on Grawp and get a read on the situation. Even with the protection of a disillusionment charm she held her breath, feeling incredibly nervous at the prospect of getting caught. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. She saw Hagrid staggering forward, his face was also covered in the rash, his eyes glazed over.

“Grawp, what are we goin’ ter do?” He sobbed as he fell down beside his brother. Grawp was non-responsive.

The green eyed witch drew up the hood of her gray cloak and once again disappeared into the woods, feeling quite smug with her handiwork.

* * *

A gray and white owl tapped on the window, startling the Malfoy family. They hardly ever received letters any more, no one wanted to correspond with them much since the war. Lucius, already standing near the window opened it, letting in a burst of bitterly cold winter air. Before he could retrieve the letter himself, the owl swooped in and landed by Draco, stretching its leg out to him, revealing not only a letter but a vial tied with brown string.

“Lucius, do close that window, it’s frigid!” whimpered Narcissa, watching her son feed the owl a piece of bacon dipped in gravy.

Draco looked pensive as he unrolled the small piece of parchment and read the short cursive message.

_“If you know what’s good for you and your family, each of you should take 3 sips from this vial and stay in your home for a week. Trust us.”_

* * *

**A/N-** For Neville & Luna’s wedding reception dance I was inspired by the music from Beirut’s song “Vagabond." However, the lyrics don’t work for a wedding dance (they’re not romantic lol), so please note it was just the music itself that gave me inspiration. Also, Beirut is just a freakin amazing band in general.

 **A** **/N #2-** Let me tell you, none of the villains in this story are original characters, not even mystery girl at the end. They’re all canon. Muahahahahaha  
**Any guesses who the baddies are yet?** I’ve mentioned four of the seven _by name_ in previous chapters, I won’t say if mystery girl has been mentioned by name yet or not…..muhahahaha **Whoever guesses the 4 correctly gets a special prize. JK. I don’t have any special prizes to give out. But I will dedicate a future chapter to you & you will have the satisfaction of guessing correctly. Good luck!**

Thank you for reading, reviewing, the kudos, & following!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Well I had some interesting reviews between here & ff.net on Chapter 13 lol I LOVE hearing from you!
> 
> Disclaimer: Dolla, dolla bills ya’ll…of which I don’t get any from writing this story

**HOGWARTS QUARANTINED! PANIC ENSUES!** (28 January 2005) by Rita Skeeter

_Sorrow, tears, the stench of rotting skin inflamed with red and purple sores, boils popping and secreting a milky liquid, all accompanied by wailing. These are the sights, sounds, and smells within the walls of Hogwarts as an unknown disease spreads like wildfire. I had the chance to visit the school 4 days into the plague, choosing to visit in my Animagus form for protection. It was not pleasant. Hogwarts, under the direction of Headmaster Filius Flitwick, has been placed under quarantine until further notice. Classes have halted and chaos ensues._

_Poppy Pomfrey, the school matron, works tirelessly as she applies cooling charms to the skin of those infected. She shuffles around the room, all the beds have been taken and extra cots have been summoned as more students and even faculty arrive daily with the symptoms of this mysterious disease. For all her years as the longstanding nurse at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey is at a loss. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s overwhelming.” She hasn’t contracted the disease yet, but only time will tell as she waits on those who suffer._

_Pomfrey went on to divulge that the symptoms of the disease appear to be very similar to the dreaded Dragon Pox, but that this new plague seems to be some kind of mutation of the original Dragon Pox. The first person known to die from Dragon Pox was in 1379 and since then there have been numerous outbreaks of the disease. The Dragon Pox does have a cure though, developed by Gunhilda de Gorsemoor in the 15 th Century. But the original Dragon Pox is still known to take its toll, especially on the elderly. Some readers may recall it was the cause of death for Eldritch Diggory, Abraxas Malfoy, and both of Harry Potter’s paternal grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, the latter of which died the year before Harry was born._

_While Madam Pomfrey has not fallen victim to the disease, other Hogwarts faculty members have not been so fortunate. Those who have already succumbed to it, though still alive, are Rubeus Hagrid, the controversial Care of Magical Creatures instructor; his half-brother-the giant known as Grawp (NOT a faculty member, but a resident in the Forbidden Forest); Lyra Messier, the Astronomy professor; and Pomona Sprout, who teaches Herbology._

_Hermione Granger, of the famous “Golden Trio,” works alongside Madam Pomfrey every moment of the day. As the Potions professor, Ms. Granger is trying to master a cure for this disease, but so far no such luck. She declined to be interviewed. With famous Potion Master Severus Snape retired from Hogwarts it doesn’t seem likely that answers or a cure will come any time soon. The Healers at St. Mungo’s will seek to find a cure as well, but of course, their hands are always full with other patients._

_The rest of the magical community in the United Kingdom has reacted with pure shock. “I can’t even order my children to come home. I have a 4 th year and a 7th year trapped inside Hogwarts and I have no way of protecting them from such a foul disease,” says Hilda Lewis, mother of Samson and Frederick Lewis. The Minister of Magic, Kinsley Shacklebolt, is being briefed daily and has stated more than once he will do everything in his power to protect the wizarding community. He has ordered everyone to stay on high alert for any symptoms they may be developing and to report to St. Mungo’s immediately if they notice the onset of the illness._

_This illness is causing a red and purple rash, anything from small bumps that appear like gooseflesh to large boils. It seems as though it’s spread from skin to skin contact, by mouth, or nose as the rash is accompanied by sneezing, coughing, and wheezing. Bodily temperatures are ranging from well over one hundred degrees, some victims’ fevers are reportedly as high as 105 or 106. It is also causing fatigue, aches, chills, eyesight problems, and loss of appetite._

_We will continue to follow this developing story every step of the way._

* * *

Tonks pulled the newspaper away from her pale face, moving her head side to side to crack her neck.

“Mummy, are we still going to Diagon Alley today?” Teddy sat at the kitchen table, his feet dangling from his chair as he munched on some toast with strawberry jam. He watched his mum, picking up on the anxiety emanating from her.

“No, love, we can’t go to Diagon Alley anymore. I’m sorry,” she rubbed her face, her hair lying limp around her shoulders.

“Why not?” he asked curiously, not seeming upset like she thought he’d be. He scooped up a large bite of scrambled eggs, slowly bringing it to his mouth so they wouldn’t slip off the fork.

Tonks grabbed her coffee mug and moved to join Teddy at the table. They were both still in their pajamas, enjoying a lazy winter morning. “Because there’s some people getting sick and we don’t know what’s causing it or how to help the people that are sick, so you and I need to be extra careful, which means not going out and doing some fun things for awhile.”

“And granny too, right?”

“Yes, granny needs to be careful too.”

“How long is it going to last?” He pushed away his plate, having finished two helpings of scrambled eggs, a full piece of toast, and a small bowl of sliced peaches. Tonks smiled at her 6-year-old, who was growing like a weed lately, very lean, but strong. While he looked more like her, every once and awhile he’d get an expression just like his father’s on his face; always a bittersweet moment for Tonks.

“I don’t know, love. Hopefully not long. The Healers at St. Mungo’s are working extra hard and so is your auntie Hermione at Hogwarts.”

“Is Hermione sick?”

“Not that I know of. Harry, Ginny, and Ron are all fine, I’ve gotten letters from them.”

“Are you going to go to work?” Teddy’s face grew serious as he started to realize that his mum might be near those infected.

“I’m going to try to take some time off, but I’m not sure yet. If I have to go I’m gonna have to send you to granny’s for awhile. Do you think you can be brave for mummy if that happens?”

Teddy put on a serious expression, nodding to his mum, while poking his index finger in his belly button. She smiled at him. _Such a sweet boy, so grown up and yet so innocent and child-like still._

“Why don’t you go play for awhile and I’ll see what I can find out about work, ok?”

“Will you come play Gobstones with me when you’re done?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Hermione ran down the hall, her cheeks flushed, her hair unkempt. She burst into the hospital, handing some vials to Harry. “Here,” she said breathlessly, her hands already preoccupied with shoving their way into gloves and scooping a generous amount of salve into her hand. She reached for Cade Willoughby’s arm and began to rub the creamy mixture onto his skin, making him shudder in his half conscious state.

“Are these different from the last mixture you tried?” Harry had uncorked one of the vials and was tipping it in Hagrid’s mouth.

She nodded, trembling. This was her third attempt to find something that worked. She had worked endlessly the moment she found out that Grawp and Hagrid were sick. The potion she had learned from Snape a year prior hadn’t worked at all. When she wasn’t in the hospital assisting Madam Pomfrey or in the potions room, she was bent over books in the library, trying to research some kind of solution.

“Neville said we should try Leaping Toadstool.”

“Do you have that in the storeroom?”

“Yeah, but not much.”

Harry hummed, placing a cool cloth over Hagrid’s eyes.

From across the room Madam Pomfrey nodded at Hermione, a knowing look on her face, as she ran her wand over the patients checking their vitals. Hermione gave a small nod in response, swallowing nervously.

“Harry, I’m not sure you should go home anymore. I think you should stay here.” His back was to her but she saw him stiffen. She wasn’t sure how he’d take this request, nay command. She knew he desperately didn’t want to be separated from Ginny in the middle of this. She was his anchor. But that was all the more reason he needed to protect Ginny.

“I know,” was his only response, although it sounded like it came through clenched teeth. He began to leave the room. “I’ll floo her and let her know.”

Hermione sighed in relief and shared another knowing look with Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

Draco stared at the empty vial lying next to The Daily Prophet with its HOGWARTS QUARANTINED article plastered across the front page. It had been 10 days since the owl had delivered the cryptic note and vial with milky like substance. He and his parents had each taken 3 sips; they watched him curiously as he was the first to throw his head back and count the sips.

It tasted disgusting. Like rubber and coconut mixed together, an odd coupling. It took all of Draco’s concentration not to spit it out immediately and scrub his tongue. Grimacing he handed the vial to his father who held it between two fingers, way from his body, like it was a dirty diaper, dripping with its contents.

“You’re sure you trust these people?”

Draco nodded, still gagging from the bitter taste.

“What is it, exactly?” His mother already looked like she might be sick to her stomach and hadn’t even taken her dose yet.

“My guess is an inoculation.”

“An inoculation,” his mother repeated, breathlessly as she watched her husband take his sips.

“Here you go, my dear, it’s truly awful.” Lucius coughed.

Narcissa’s face remained blank as she tipped the rest into her mouth and down her throat. “And what, pray tell, will this inoculation save us from?”

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “I couldn’t tell you exactly.” Narcissa gave him an annoyed look, under which he recoiled. “I…I think it’s something like Dragon Pox.”

“Dragon Pox?” Lucius’ voice was sharp. “Your grandfather died of that.”

“Dragon Pox already has a cure.” His mother’s languid tone juxtaposed the worry in Lucius’ voice.

Draco shook his head, his blonde hair caressing his forehead. “I know, I know. I don’t know all the details.”

“These little friends of yours better have a good plan,” Lucius said, clamping his right hand into a fist and walking away. Narcissa looked equally annoyed, but Draco really was telling the truth: he didn’t know, in fact he wasn’t even sure just who had sent the vial and note, although he had his suspicions.

He followed the rest of the directions in the note and took the week off from work. The Goblins at Gringotts were none too happy to hear of his absence, but since he never really took time off to begin with, they found they couldn’t deny him his request.

A faint rash appeared for two days on all three of them. His mother had headaches, his father a cough. Draco had found that other than the rash, he appeared unscathed. And by the end of the week all three were clear of any symptoms.

* * *

Harry slammed the book shut, rubbing his forehead and gaining a sympathetic look from Hermione. “I can’t find anything that matches all these symptoms.” His jaw was set, his eyes bloodshot.

“The storeroom is running out of supplies,” Hermione noted, staring into a cauldron.

A few minutes later she sighed as she stirred the contents. _“Fuck.”_

Harry looked up at her in surprise. He had never heard her curse before. “You’ll figure this out Hermione, you always figure things out with that brilliant mind of yours,” he tried to encourage her. She only frowned.

“I have absolutely no idea, Harry. I…I don’t think I can figure it out this time.”

She moved to sit down next to him, holding her head in her hands, too tired to cry. After a pregnant pause she looked up at him, taking in his sunken eyes and chapped lips. Thankfully neither one of them exhibited the symptoms. Yet.

“How’s Ginny doing?” She knew Harry was contacting her daily through the floo network, too nervous to send a letter that might contaminate her.

“She’s a mess. Not really sleeping, sick to her stomach with worry, trying to stay strong of course. Molly wants her to come to the Burrow but Ginny refuses to be that far away from me. Molly’s locked up George and Angelina and won’t let them out of the house. Ginny’s worried about Bill, Fleur, baby Victorie, and Ron too.”

Hermione nodded, not blaming Molly for wanting to avoid losing anymore loved ones.

“I can’t help but think Snape would know what to do,” Hermione said softly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater.

“Have you tried contacting him?” Harry still assumed that Snape had left because he was tired to teaching and that it had nothing to do with Hermione.

“I don’t know where he is.”

Harry reached out to grab her hand.

“I’m running out of supplies, I’m running out of ideas,” she continued, “Professor Sprout can barely even talk she’s in so much pain. Herbology was the subject I didn’t get an Outstanding in, I don’t _know_ it as well as other subjects. My mind feels fuzzy, it’s hard to think straight sometimes.”

Harry inhaled deeply. “We need Neville.”

* * *

“My love, there’s a letter waiting for you,” Luna said softly, looking up from her book as Neville came in, plopping himself down on an oversized armchair.

“Ok. I just need a minute…”

“You look exhausted, here let me make you some tea,” she rose, kissing the top of his head before retreating into the kitchen. A fire blazed in the fireplace, the wood snapping and crackling with each passing second. Before Luna returned with a cup of chamomile tea, Neville had already dozed off, his head thrust back on the chair, mouth hanging open.

Luna debated waking him, the letter was from Hogwarts after all, but decided to let him sleep, tucking a soft blanket around her husband. Another hour or so to wait for his response wouldn’t do much damage, and he was so very tired. A couple of the other Aurors were already admitted into St. Mungo’s, Harry preoccupied and held up at Hogwarts, and Tonks had requested time off to stay home with Teddy, leaving Neville and Ron to pull double shifts.

Luna watched her husband with concern. This was hardly a wonderful way to ease into marriage, hardly a “honeymoon phase.” And when he did have a moment to relax, anxiety over the health of his grandmother plagued him. Granny had continued to go out in public even after hearing about the disease. She huffed, saying if she didn’t get Dragon Pox when it took its course years ago, the same time it killed Abraxas Malfoy, she was strong enough to ward it off this time. Neville tried to convince her that was faulty logic, but to no avail.

No, sleep was what Neville needed right now, Luna concluded. She grabbed her book and resumed her spot on the sofa, curling up and feeling drowsy herself.

* * *

“Hermione?” McGonagall’s concerned voice sounded from the fireplace in Hermione’s room. Hermione had just drifted off to sleep, lying on her sofa with a book clutched to her chest, for the first time in almost 48 hours. Not having reached a REM cycle yet, she quickly came back to consciousness when McGonagall repeated her name, her eyes slowly opening to see McGonagall’s face in the fire.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t made it back to my room much lately.”

“I’ve been so worried about you all. Please give me a report.”

Hermione recounted her experiments and the ingredients she used. She detailed the symptoms and went through the list of the faculty members who were now bedridden, including Headmaster Flitwick at this point.

“42 Ravenclaws, 38 Gryffindors, 22 Slytherins, and 13 Hufflepuff.”

“I shall come at once-“

“No! Please, it spreads quickly to those who are older, please. I’d much rather have you in the safety of your own home so I can consult with you, rather than here, risking it with us,” Hermione cried out, falling to her knees in front of the fire.

“Hermione!” McGonagall exclaimed, surprised by Hermione’s strong reaction.

“Please! I can’t lose you too!” Hermione began sobbing. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t solve this. Everything I do fails! They’re dying and I can’t help them!”

It was evident through the flames that McGonagall wore a pained expression.

“My dear, you’re not alone in this. Have the Healers at St. Mungo’s been able to piece anything together?”

“Not yet,” Hermione whimpered.

“Has Severus not written at least?”

Hermione wiped snot away from under her nose with her sweater. “No,” her voice broke.

_“That stubborn bastard.”_

Hermione’s eyes widened with shock at McGonagall’s response. McGonagall only shook her head, her hair twisted into a tight bun on top of it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Hermione nodded, thanking her, before slowly rising. She assumed McGonagall meant that she would see what she could find out in a book somewhere that might be helpful with finding a cure.

* * *

 _Neville,  
_ _Professor Sprout has died. I still can’t seem to concoct something that works. Nothing seems to really alleviate any of the symptoms other than the salve providing little comfort. Even Madam Pomfrey is starting to show symptoms.  
_ _We are desperate. Harry and I have discussed this a lot between ourselves and even managed to ask Flitwick for permission-and please know that we don’t ask this of you without serious and tentative consideration-but we need you here, if you are willing. I could use your expertise with different plants. It seems more than half the school and faculty are bedridden from this terrible disease.  
_ _Please talk over this with Luna. We realize the dangers in asking you to come to us. We understand as newlyweds this is a lot to ask of you, to endure separation from your wife in such dangerous circumstances. But we wouldn’t ask unless we were absolutely at our wits end and losing all hope. Please let us know your answer as soon as possible.  
_ _With love,  
_ _Hermione and Harry_

Neville looked up into his wife’s vibrant blue eyes, his face tense.

“They want me to come to Hogwarts.”

“Go.”

“Are you sure? I’d have to stay there for who knows how long. I don’t know if I want to be away from you right now.”

“Neville, that’s where you need to be. You’ve already been in danger showing up for work. They _need_ you. Go.” She reached for his hand across the table, squeezing it.

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I want you to go stay with your father, you’ll both be happier that way.”

He scribbled out a note to Hermione and Harry, telling them he’d be there first thing in the morning. Then he wrote a much more difficult letter, resigning from his Auror position. He felt bad leaving when Robards needed him there as well, but his heart was set on helping out at Hogwarts. Maybe Robards would give him his old job back, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know if he’d even live through this mess. He signed the letter, sealed it, and summoned another owl to deliver it.

He made love to his wife that night, tenderly, their lips and hands passionately trying to feel every part of each other’s bodies, unsure of when they’d have another moment like that again. Afterwards he held her in his arms, stroking her long hair while she slept against his chest, their legs entwined. He finally fell asleep with only a couple of hours to spare before he needed to leave for Hogwarts. But it was an angst ridden slumber, plagued with dreams of students at Hogwarts dying in his arms, their flesh rotting, their eyes pleading. Unknowingly, he clutched Luna closer to him as if she were one of the students, crying in his sleep.

* * *

The minute Neville appeared at the gate of Hogwarts Hermione practically leapt at him. “Oh God, finally,” she rubbed her hands together, clad in wool mittens. Neville had apparated to Hogsmeade and walked the rest of the way, unable to floo or apparate into Hogwarts without the special charm linked to his wand. It was a blustery cold day.

She wanted to throw her arms around him, but knew better. “First things first, here, take these.” She held out a long black robe, elbow length gloves, and a mask to cover his nose and mouth. “You can wait to put the robe on until we get inside. And you shouldn’t ever, under any circumstances, wear it in your private room. Always discard it, outside your door and a house elf will launder it-“

“The house elves are immune?”

“It seems so. For now at least,” she huffed, her cheeks rosy with false vitality. A closer look exposed the dark purple circles under her eyes and the way she hobbled like she ached with arthritis.

“Always wear the mask and the gloves, of course.”

“You and Harry haven’t gotten sick?”

“No, strangely enough. We’re taking precautions. But Harry traveled back and forth between home and the castle for almost a week and I’m worried sick about Ginny.” Her hair whipped across her face as a gust of wind rose up.

“But she’s ok so far, right?”

“Yes.” Hermione stopped at the entrance to the school. “Brace yourself. The smell is overwhelming at times, the hospital is overflowing, we’ve begun putting the sick in the Great Hall, and the healthy students are crammed into the Room of Requirement with Professors Vector and Keighly. Owls fly in daily with letters or worse, Howlers, from parents, demanding to know about their children. We can’t possibly answer all of them. We have Madam Pince trying to respond all day, poor woman. It’s a mess.”

“Ok, what would be the best way for me to help?”

“If you could assist me in potion experiments and in the hospital? I’ve found that a soothing aloe salve helps with some of the pain from the rash, enough for the students to rest at least.”

“How many have died?”

She exhaled, looking utterly defeated as she stared into his eyes. She didn’t want to say the number out loud. It would make it all too real.

“28.”

“28?!”

“About 10 more are really close. Oh and Flitwick has requested to be kept in his private quarters.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want the student body to know he’s also sick. I guess for morale reasons. Here, let me show you to your room.”

She pushed open the doors and Neville found an eerie silence as they walked through the halls that once bustled with movement, passing the areas they fought the Death Eaters, the room he had married the love of his life. Hermione led him up upstairs, near the DADA room to a small room fixed up to be his bedroom. “It’s small, but should suffice.”

“Not that I’ll be in it much, I doubt.”

Hermione nodded her head in agreement, looking around, her hands on her hips. “You know, when all this is over, if it’s ever over, we want you to replace Professor Sprout.”

“Not the way I wanted to get the job,” he frowned.

“I know.” She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I haven’t had much contact with the outside world, has it started to spread to the Ministry?”

“Just starting to. A couple of Aurors are sick. Ron’s fine,” he assured her. “Kingsley ordered the Ministry members to communicate through letters a few days ago, to be on the safe side. Some shops in Diagon Alley have decided to close up, for now at least.”

Hermione felt even more terrible, in all the chaos at Hogwarts she’d failed to get a message to Ron to see if he was ok.

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?” her head was still resting on his shoulder, trying to glean comfort and stability.

“Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Snape sat cradling his head in his right hand, his left holding what was his 5th glass of Firewhisky that night. His head was pounding and he knew he needed to stop with the alcohol and drink water instead, but at this point he didn’t care. He sat alone, in front of a fire that was dying out, the embers growing dimmer with each passing minute.

He was currently residing at a small inn on the outskirts of Moscow and had been since November, trying to get his mind off Hermione. Annoying, infuriating Hermione…but his mind quickly betrayed him and pulled up images of her smiling at him, throwing her head back in laughter, their intellectual discussions, the feel of her soft hand in his and the heat that radiated from her the night they danced. _Fuck._ He needed to stop thinking about her.

Some nights he could barely sleep, other times he slept the full night and most of the day. His drinking habits were concerning, not that he cared enough to do anything about it. He had dark stubble growing in, his hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He was pretty sure he hallucinated a couple of times, seeing her across the room, not like a ghost, but in flesh and blood.

The tapping at the window startled him and he nearly jumped out of his skin, his glass sloshing the alcohol onto the floor and even worse, onto his hand. “Ughh, great,” he wiped the back of his hand against his pant leg and looked towards the window, seeing a white fluffy owl. His immediate thought was Hermione had sent it, except that the roll of parchment seemed too short to be from Hermione. He expected nothing short of a novel from her.

The owl retreated to stand near the fireplace, shaking from the cold. He unrolled the note, recognizing the handwriting and his heart sank a little when he realized it wasn’t from her. He shoved that hopeful thought aside and tried to concentrate on McGonagall’s message. It was dated the 1st of February. It was currently February 9th. Had it really taken this owl that long to track him down? He smirked.

 _Severus,  
__Have you not heard? Disease is laying waste across our community, Hogwarts is under quarantine. Grawp has died, others will soon. Over 50 students are sick. We can’t seem to figure out a cure. Nothing seems to be working. Please come back._  

He read through it three times, the alcohol’s effect on his brain slowing his comprehension. He actually hadn’t heard about the plague or the quarantine since he was tucked away in a Muggle part of Russia.

He crumpled McGonagall’s letter in his right hand and threw it into the fire.

 **_This is not your home.  
_ ** **_This is where the night pulls you in. Nothing like old times, when we were friends  
_ ** **_And this, this is where the water calls. And severance sings me out again  
_ ** **_But I won’t call on you, my friend; I won’t call on you, I can’t.  
_ ** **_I’ve got nothing on you  
_ ** _**You were all I had to lose.** _

* * *

Song quoted at the end- _Cannibals_ by Kyla La Grange, link to listen:

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgx685CpDyw> 

 

 **A/N #2-** In preparation for this chapter I read through the Daily Prophet articles posted on Harry Potter wikia & utilized the simulation Hogwarts classes for Herbology at the site Hogwarts is Here.

**A/N #3-** I haven’t mentioned this yet in the story, but in my head canon George & Angelina decided to live in the Burrow with Molly since Arthur died. I can only imagine what that’d be like with mischievous George & sassy Angelina interacting with Molly on a daily basis!

**Any more guesses who the baddies are? ;) If etherina can't correctly guess who they are, I'll kill off everyone in this story! JK JK JK. I won't do that. That would be absurd :D **

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR.
> 
> Guesses Received between here & FF.net: Draco/Nott/Pansy/Blaise (2 of those are correct!); The Carrows (but they’re locked up in prison how on earth would they be able to do anything?! me: giggles mischievously); Tonks (oh my); Oliver Wood lol

**The very essence of romance is uncertainty.-Oscar Wilde**

The door to the hospital wing flew open, banging against the wall. Neville came running in, a wild expression in his eyes. “He’s back!”

The commotion nearly made Hermione jump out of her skin and drop the vials she was holding as she measured out one of the potions.

“What? Who?” Her heart leapt.

“Snape! He flooed in like 20 minutes ago. He’s talking with Flitwick and Harry right now.”

Her head began spinning. “Have you talked to him already?”

“Yes, he asked me what we had used so far and about the new research Saffron Thistle-“

“Neville out!” The door burst open again as Snape strode in briskly like a dark ominous force to be reckoned with, staring daggers at the two of them. Neville quickly fled like a young child running to escape a punishment. _Those eyes, full of vehemence. Full of passion._ Hermione’s breath hitched.

But despite her strong internal reaction, she turned her attention back to the vials, raising her chin and pretending not to care about Snape’s dramatic entrance. Or the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in over 6 months. Or the fact that she’d missed him so much at times that her heart ached terribly.

Snape came up behind her, his steps silent, but she could feel his breath on her neck. Her hair was pinned up in a bun on top of her head.

“What’s in that potion?”                                             

“Hello to you, too.

“What’s in that potion?”

She sighed. “Leaping Toadstool, salt, vinegar, lemon, turmeric, and dittany.”

“That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because Leaping Toadstool counteracts with Turmeric and renders it useless.”

“Well you should have been here to help us then.”

“If you were really all that knowledgeable in potions you should have been able to experiment more effectively. You need to think, damnit. Not everything is textbook information.”

“Can you stop berating me for a minute and actually help? I assume that’s the reason you came back. But maybe you just came back so you could insult me.”

“I’m not insulting you, Granger, I’m instructing you. You’ve measured that vial, now come on.” He reached for the vial, capping it and setting it down.

“Come where?”

“Now is not the time to explain.” He grabbed her hand and twisted, pulling her with him as he disapparated.

It took Hermione a few seconds to gain her balance and for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. They were in a densely wooded area, surrounded by dead trees, orange and brown leaves coating the snowless ground. But it was very cold.

Still holding her hand, Snape began running. Hermione struggled to keep up and not trip over the thick tree roots that jutted out from the ground or hit her head on low hanging branches. She was only vaguely aware of their skin contact at this point.

He slowed and withdrew a knife from his pocket, beginning to slice the bark off the tree, handing the pieces to Hermione. She looked back and forth, between the tree and him.

“Where are we?”

“The Forest of Dean.”

“Ohhhhh I’ve been here before. Mum and dad took me camping here a couple of times when I was younger!”

He grunted, continuing to concentrate on the tree.

“What is this tree?”

“Chestnut.”

“For ingredients?”

“Correct. Actually, go make yourself useful and collect the chestnuts from the ground. Here, take this.” He flicked his wand and created a large bucket.

She scoured the earth, there were plenty of nuts but they were scattered all over the place. The night air was cold against her body since she wasn’t wearing a coat but only a sweater and her robe. However cold she felt though, the air was refreshing to her lungs after being confined inside Hogwarts for the last couple of weeks. She inhaled deeply. For the first time in the last hour since Snape had reappeared in her life she noticed just how tense her body felt. Her nervous system felt like it was rapid firing on high alert. She glanced over at Snape who was still slicing from the same tree, working his way around to another side. He looked worn out, a bit pale, his hair greasier than usual. But the way he stood under the moonlight appealed to her. He looked majestic out in the forest.

It wasn’t until Hermione’s fingers were nearly frozen stiff that Snape seemed satisfied enough to leave. He had conjured another bucket for the slices of bark and gestured for her to take his hand again.

“Neville had mentioned chestnut trees before,” she said tentatively as she walked over to him. “But we weren’t sure where to go to find them and the apothecary didn’t have any in stock when he checked.” Hermione wanted to make sure that Snape knew they had at least considered this ingredient.

He only grunted as she took his hand, pulling her back towards Hogwarts.

* * *

Robards lurched forwards, struggling to stay on his feet. His head pounded, his eyesight had gone blurry, and the quick onset of the rash made him want to peel his skin off. He hadn’t felt well for the last couple of days, but attempted to hide his symptoms from everyone else at Azkaban. They needed him there. Tonks had requested time off, unwilling to part from Teddy, Harry was held up at Hogwarts with Neville now there too, leaving Robards, Ron, and a ragtag group of other Aurors to patrol Azkaban and the streets. Ron was pretty much working non-stop as of late. The disease had spread rapidly through Robards’ body.

Alecto Carrow watched with intense interest as Robards staggered to the ground, wincing and gasping in pain, as he just happened to be passing her cell. She sat in the shadows, silently biding her time. She had heard the Aurors’ whispers as they passed by her cell over the last few days. _Something_ was wrong and Alecto planned to profit from the chaos. With Robards in clear view of her now, alone and vulnerable, such a chance seemed to be occurring. She waited until he quit struggling to stand back up, until he was only twitching and moaning on the floor before she made her move.

“Flectere Voluntatem Meam,” she spoke the incantation effortlessly, the second time she had performed it. _Bend to my will. He_ had invented and perfected this spell, apparently even making a replica of the jail cell’s door to practice. Alohomora simply wouldn’t work in Azkaban, the Aurors weren’t _that_ dimwitted. A new spell needed to be invented to unlock the cells doors.

The lock spring bent back, a faint click could be heard to show the spell worked. Alecto crawled forward at first, making sure Robards really was incapacitated; he was on his side, facing away from her. She pressed lightly at the cell door and it opened with a creak. Bending over him she saw his wand in his pocket, while also noticing the ugly rash on his neck. Grimacing, she took the hem of her sackcloth prisoner robe and bit it, tearing it with her hands until she had a strip she could use to wrap around her hand like a bandage. She preferred to not catch whatever was ailing Robards. She repeated her tearing steps again, tying cloth around her pointer finger and thumb.

Slipping his wand out from his pocket she also grabbed his keys, clipped to his belt. What she wouldn’t give to Avada Kedavra right then and there, but she knew his wand probably wouldn’t betray its master like that, especially since she didn’t technically “win” it from him. She ran down the hallway on her toes, rushing down the stairs to her brother’s cell. She passed other cells, hearing the prisoners’ snores.

“Flectere Voluntatem Meam,” she whispered. Amycus was also asleep, so she aimed Robards’s wand at him to wake him with a slight shiver, hoping not to spook him and cause a commotion. Amycus sat up, groggy, running his hand over his face.

“Come on,” she reached out a hand to him, standing at the door of his cell. His eyes widened at the sight of her as she motioned for him to follow her. She looked down the corridor both ways, before choosing her direction. He followed wordlessly. She began opening the other prisoners’ doors.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we just get out of here?”

“It’ll be better if we are all in it together. We can take the place, trust me. They haven’t had as many Aurors on duty in the last week and Robards is currently wasting away upstairs.” She dangled Robards’ keys at her brother, still working on unlocking cell doors and rousing prisoners out of their sleep.

“What’s the plan?” Amycus hissed in his sister’s ear.

“We need our wands. We can take on the Aurors who are on duty, shouldn’t be too difficult. And then we need to get the fuck outta here and go find the girls.”

Other prisoners were now cheering and clapping at their release, following the Carrows gleefully. Alecto turned to shush them, spit flying out of her mouth.

“Be quiet! Everyone follow us, we’re going down to a lower level to release more prisoners and then we’re taking back our wands!”

Her instructions were met with sallow faces and yellow teeth as the prisoners continued to rejoice, albeit more quietly now.

The prisoners ran through the halls of Azkaban, greedy for revenge. Many of them were former Death Eaters, but not all. No matter their crimes they were eager to flee the prison. Their mission: to reach the Auror office and retrieve their wands. There were anti-apparation wards in Azkaban, but at least with their wands they could conjure other spells that might be helpful in getting them out of the secluded prison.

* * *

Snape, Hermione, Neville, and Harry worked in silence, chopping the chestnuts and adding the slices of bark into bubbling cauldrons. Neville wiped some sweat off his forehead as he peered into one cauldron, stirring and adding in some garlic while counting his rotations. Hermione snuck furtive glances at Snape as he moved his knife in precise movements. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Harry was the first to break the silence after the last hour of painstaking work.

“These ingredients are all prepped.”

Snape nodded, finishing up his chopping as well. He moved around to inspect the two cauldrons in front of Hermione. “Good,” he said simply, moving to Neville’s station. “Let’s go test these on a couple of the patients.” The four moved up stairs, choosing to test the new potion with chestnuts and bark on Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid first, before experimenting on the students.  

“Merlin, I hope this works,” Neville groaned, watching Hermione administer the potion.

A few hours later Snape ran diagnostic scans on Hagrid with his wand. Hagrid’s vitals had seemed to only slightly improve, while his rash really hadn’t changed at all, to their dismay. The hospital door creaked open, revealing an outsider with curious eyes.

“Colin Creevey, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here!” Hermione looked up from where she sat by Hagrid, her voice muffled by the mask she wore over her mouth.

“Shacklebolt sent us to get a report. He wants another article now that Snape is back.”

“Us?” Then she saw Rita Skeeter’s animagus perched on Colin’s shoulder. It reminded her of Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket, and if the situation wasn’t so dire she would have found the sight comical.

“Yeah, Rita Skeeter’s with me,” he looked at Rita the insect. “Shacklebolt sent a message to Flitwick’s office…we assumed you knew we were on our way.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, her eyes alarmed. “Here, put these on quickly.” She handed him gloves and the face mask.

“I can’t believe he sent you, that’s incredibly negligent.” Snape looked irate.

“But I haven’t gotten sick, though! And I was even at St. Mungo’s a few days ago to interview the Healers there!”

“Ahem,” Rita drew attention to herself.

“Ok, Rita did most of the interview, but I did some!” He justified. “Shacklebolt wants some visual documentation too…err…if that’s ok?” Colin clutched his camera.

“It most certainly is not. If he wants to see so badly he can come here himself!” Snape fumed.

“How is it that you’ve been perfectly ok after being exposed so much?” Hermione’s mind was churning.

“I dunno,” Colin shrugged, his eyes lighting up though. “A miracle maybe?”

Her eyes flickered over to Snape’s, his dark eyes searching hers intensely. “Colin and I are Muggle-born…you’re half blood,” she addressed Snape. “Harry was raised Muggle. Harry and I didn’t use masks in the first couple of days, but we’ve been fine.” She grabbed the clip board she often carried around with her, the roster of all the students in each house. She made quick marks next to some student’s names, her eyes scanning the pages. “Almost all of the students who _aren’t_ sick are either Muggle-born or half blood raised in Muggle areas.” Everyone’s eyes were on her as she worked out the clues. “Snape, do you know if you were vaccinated as a baby?”

“Yes. My dad wanted me raised as a Muggle.”

“Harry, I’m sure you were…it’s the Measles, it’s Measles and Dragon Pox combined. I know it, I just know it! That’s why only some of the ingredients seem to be effective. And the rash sometimes looks more like Measles and sometimes more like Dragon Pox. The chestnut helped, but not entirely.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry exclaimed.

Colin’s jaw had dropped and Rita’s magical quill was scribbling furiously across the notepad.

“I have a book on Muggle health and diseases. Hermione, come with me,” Snape commanded. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Again, he grabbed her hand, disapparating, this time to his home at Spinner’s End. “We’ll probably need to gather more supplies,” he instructed as his eyes roamed his bookcases. “Here.” He grabbed a book, searching through the index for Measles. “We need serum from a calf fetus, some more salt and sucrose since we’ve used up the supply at Hogwarts, gelatin, and human albumin.” He looked up at her curiously. “Would you perhaps be the donor of the albumin?”

She swallowed hard. “What does that entail?”

“I would need to extract some blood from you, remove the albumin from it, then I can return the blood back to your body.”

“Ew.”

“Ew, but important. Donor?”

She sighed. “Ok.”

“Great, we’ll do that last. Let’s go get the rest of the supplies.” He kept the book in his hand and disapparated them to Diagon Alley.

When they returned to Hogwarts he delivered the supplies to Neville and Harry, giving them some prepping instructions. He turned towards Hermione, bending his head low to hers and almost whispering: “let’s go to your room.” Hermione shivered at his words and the tone of his deep voice. Her damn imagination fluttered to a scene where he might say that same thing under a different context. Her pulse quickened, her breathing more laborious.

Back in her room his next command didn’t help her to stop her imagination from continuing to run wild. “You should lie down, it’ll be better that way.” She inwardly groaned at the way her body jolted with anticipation. _Get it together, Granger!_

She decided on the sofa, instead of her bed, hoping that would dissuade her mind from trying to sexualize everything he said. He pulled a chair up and asked her to hold her out arm, placing a cylinder on the floor. He took her arm in his hands and began gently cleaning her skin with rubbing alcohol. She felt some calluses along the top of his palms, but didn’t mind them. They seemed fitting for his hands, which by the way, were looking particularly seductive in the low light of her bedroom. _Stop it!_ She screamed internally at herself. She snuck a quick glance at him and thought for the briefest of moments that she saw him smirk. She turned her face away, feeling deeply humiliated if he was using Legilimency.

“Try to relax,” his voice was actually soothing instead of abrasive like normal.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

“This will probably hurt but it will only last a few minutes, ok? Afterwards I want you to stay lying down for another 30 minutes, if you get up too quickly you risk passing out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes.

* * *

Hours later Hermione slid down the wall of the potions classroom, her legs finally giving way to the exhaustion. She didn’t care if the stone floor was freezing cold beneath her. She just needed a moment to rest. They had already begun using the new potion on a few of the sick, losing track of time. She caught Snape’s eyes. He sat against the wall adjacent to her, looking as equally exhausted.

She rolled her head back against the wall. “So many…” her voice cracked. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. If this potion doesn’t work I’m going to go insane.”

When he didn’t respond she glanced back over at him, tears flooding her eyes. “We needed you here.”

Still no response. He avoided her eyes, examining his shoe instead, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent.

“You should have been the headmaster,” she pressed on, her voice filled with conviction.

“Who says I would have been able to prevent something like this?” His voice was quiet and soft. She had never heard it so soft before.

“We needed your leadership at least.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

A couple of tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to stare at him. “Were you happier? Did you find what you were searching for?” She shifted her eyes down to her hands, refusing to look at him now.

“No.”

She rolled her head back again, against the stone, grimacing at his answer, more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I wish you hadn’t left.”

He drank in the image of her, collapsed on the floor, her face filled with vulnerability as she squeezed her eyes shut to block out his response. She wasn’t putting up a façade. She wasn’t poised or confident, with carefully tailored words. She was so raw in that moment. He hadn’t realized she had cared so much.

He opened his mouth, trying to find his voice, but before he could ask “why?” he saw her eyes snap forward, alert and tense again.

“Do you have some more vials I can take?” Neville asked tentatively from the door.

Hermione nodded, struggling slowly to stand up. “I was just about to bring these up to you guys.”

Snape’s eyes followed her across the room but she didn’t look at him as she followed Neville out. Groaning he rolled his head down in defeat, staring at his lap. Her sadness echoed through him and resonated all too well with his own feelings.

Perhaps he had dozed off because the next thing he knew a house elf was standing before him.

“Please, sir. It’s Headmaster Flitwick. He wants to see you immediately.”

* * *

Snape approached Flitwick, whose small body was barely visible on a cot in the headmaster’s office. He requested to be privately treated in the office so he could be advised by the headmaster portraits and not have the students see his suffering.

“Severus,” his voice was raspy. Snape looked down at the shriveled man, wrinkling his nose at the rash covering the headmaster’s face. The room smelled like sweat and was muggy from the burning candles and wet strips of cloth that lay by Flitwick’s cot to cool his enflamed skin. Snape pulled at the high neckline of his own thick black shirt, feeling claustrophobic in the dank room.

“Severus,” Flitwick repeated.

“I’m here, Filius.”

“I fear I’m not going to pull through and-“

“Try not to jump to conclusions, Filius. The potions Ms. Granger and I have concocted seem to be helping. We just need to give it more time.”

“Severus, I’m serious. I can feel the waste in my body. Even if I do survive, I won’t be capable of leading the school anymore. I feel so weak. And scared.” Flitwick’s voice trembled and his body shook under the white blanket draped across him.

“What do you need me to do?” Snape knew he had just opened the door for more demands to be made on him. Just more commitments he’d have to agree to; would his life ever his own?

“Please take the headmaster position. Please, Severus. I know you were Minerva’s first choice. You will keep this school disciplined and running efficiently. You will bring it back from this misery.”

“I did not plan to return to Hogwarts. I’m not even residing in Britain anymore.” Guilt pulsed through his heart. _But Hermione wants you to come back_ , a thought betrayed his resolve to stay away from Hogwarts.

“Please, Severus, please, I beg of you. I will sign the document while I still have some strength left.”

* * *

Snape’s footsteps were silent, his breathing hitched as he approached the large white clad object. Pulling the sheet off, it rippled to the ground, as his eyes focused intently on the object itself. Sad dark eyes stared back at him for a few seconds and then materialized into a vibrant green color.

“Lily,” he whimpered, his face twisted with pain and torment, as he stared into the Mirror of Erised. He reached up and lightly touched the mirror, where her arm was.

He broke into a low sob. “Lily, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to.” Lily’s vision in the mirror reached up tenderly, as if stroking his hair.

“I’m in agony, Lily. I don’t…I didn’t want to live. I’m tired. I don’t know why I lived.”

He peered into the mirror, squinting. _Was she fading away?_ “Lily, no! Don’t go! Please, don’t! Why are you always leaving me!?”

Fear and panic struck his heart. All his pent up emotions barrel rolled out of him like a wave crashing over rocks on a beach. He couldn’t contain his emotions anymore. Why was she fading when she had been so steady all the other times he had visited the mirror over the years?

Through teary eyes he saw another pale figure approaching. _Death? It’s death for sure,_ he thought excitedly. _Finally, by this point, this is what he longed for most of all._

He saw Lily, just barely visible at this point, nod at the other vision standing next to her. Then, to Snape’s horror, the other vision approached becoming more discernible. A female with honey brown eyes, soft brown curls, and rosy cheeks. Hermione Granger. Frantically, he tried to call Lily back, but to no avail. She had fully disappeared.

“No!!!” He growled. Hermione gave him a steady look, refusing to leave. “It’s not true! Leave me alone!!” Yelling now he grabbed the white cloth and threw it back over the mirror.

Panting from his outburst he leaned over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. He tried to think about anything else, but could only think about two things: the end of Hermione’s memory she shared with him of the day they almost died; and the end of his own memory of that same day, still tucked away deep inside of him, never shared with anyone. _And NEVER to be shared with anyone_ , he reminded himself. He vowed to never share what he saw in the Mirror of Erised either.

* * *

The prisoners stormed the main office at Azkaban; kicking, clawing, punching, and biting their way into the room. Fortunately for them, without Robards and because the prison was so understaffed, the prisoners quickly gained the upper hand against the Aurors. In the midst of the uprising Alecto was able to slip undetected into the storage room where their wands were held and grab the boxes. Moving back out into the main office she grabbed hers and Amycus’s wand and spilled the rest over the table.

“Come and get your wands and stop fighting like savages!” she yelled.

She grabbed her brother’s hand and they fled the room. “Come on!” she shouted when he kept tripping over his own feet in mid sprint. They stopped once they had reached the ground level of the prison and could hear the waves crashing around the walls. Alecto stroked her wand, happy to be reunited.

“How are we gonna get ourselves out of here?” Amycus’s voice was hoarse.

She smiled wickedly, showing she had lost two teeth while imprisoned. She opened the prison door to the rocky surface that held Azkaban in the sea. Stepping out into a fierce wind she beckoned her brother to follow. They stepped right outside, trying not to slip off the rocks as water slapped against them around their feet.

“Flossy,” she summoned. A prison’s security wouldn’t allow for a house elf to apparate into it unless called by an Auror, but outside the walls was fair game.

The two heard a pop only a few seconds later. The Carrow family house elf stood before them on the rocks with large blue eyes, wringing her hands. “Masters!”

“Flossy, take us back to Carrow Estate.”

“Yes miss.” Flossy made her way in between the two of them, barely able to stand up against the wind. The siblings each grabbed one of her hands, eager to leave Azkaban behind and find freedom.

Three out of the seven Aurors on duty that night were killed in the ambush; the other four disapparated, fearing for their lives since they were certainly outnumbered. But since Shacklebolt had ordered most of the Ministry workers to work from home, there wasn’t anyone actually at the Ministry building to report to. They each retreated to their homes, sending separate messages to Ministry officials of the breakout.

Robards died alone, still outside of Alecto’s cell, his heart succumbing to the disease. Ron was on the streets that night, patrolling Diagon Alley, and fortunately left unscathed from the uprising at Azkaban.

* * *

Hermione and Snape’s eyes were glued to Hagrid, having used the experimental potion on him hours before. They were alone with the patients. Hermione was practically holding her breath as they waited for some kind of affirmation that they had been successful. Snape slowly moved his wand over Hagrid, checking his vitals for the third time since they had tried the potion, reading the numbers off to Hermione to record.

“His vitals are almost normal. They’ve improved significantly in the last two hours.” She looked up at Snape, her eyes large, mixed with hope and disbelief.

“Yes,” Snape answered quietly. “And look at his arm.” Hermione bent for a closer look; the rash had already begun to fade.

Hermione gasped and before Snape could realize what was happening her arms were around his neck, her face buried in his hair and neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears. In shock, he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and struggling to gain control of his breathing, as relief of his own sank in.

“We did it, we did it,” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. He felt a stir within him, jolt of electricity in his heart.

She pulled her head away but left her arms around his neck as she looked up at him, the gold flecks in her brown eyes more visible now than ever before. He returned her stare, neither of them moving. Their stare seemed to say more than their words ever had. Lost in the moment they both failed to realize that their heads had grown closer, inch by inch.

He held her firmly. Her lips were slightly parted and oh so enticing. When she closed her eyes he worked up the nerve to close the gap between their lips, almost touching-

The doors burst open and Shacklebolt flanked by Harry and Neville entered. Snape and Hermione jumped apart from each other.

“I came as soon as I could. Is it working?” Shacklebolt’s voice boomed throughout the room.

* * *

 

**Need I remind you that I hinted at the identities of the 7 in the prologue/chapter 1 prophecy?**

**A/N-** yes, yes, those are most of the ingredients in the Measles vaccine. If going to grad school taught me anything it’s the importance of thorough research!

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful readers & reviewers!!! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story does not “make it rain” on me, nor am I “flushed with cash” because of it [insert Tom Haverford & Jean-Ralphio voices].

“DAMN IT!!”

“What?” Flora Carrow poked her head into the parlor where her twin sister Hestia was currently engrossed in _The Daily Prophet_.

“They fucking figured it out!” She slammed the newspaper onto the table beside her, fuming. “Ugh! Barely did any damage.”

Flora frowned at her sister, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let me guess. Snape came back?”

“Yup. He and his fucking protégé Hermione Granger, the dynamic duo, saved the day!” Hestia rolled her eyes, the rest of her porcelain white face remained characteristically emotionless despite her tone.

“That must be what this letter from Nott is about.”

Hestia’s eyes darted towards the folded note in Flora’s hand. “What? What does he want?” She sat up straighter.

“Us to come see him.” Flora raised her eyebrows, giving her sister an amused look. They decided to use the floo network lest they be spied on and followed. Theodore Nott was sitting in the study of his father’s estate, drinking a cup of tea, when they stepped out of the fireplace.

“Hello ladies,” he received them, his voice calm.

“We tried,” Hestia threw her arms up indignantly as she sat down on the sofa opposite of Theodore’s chair, flinging one leg over the other, an obstinate look on her face. He quirked his eyebrow at her. 

“So you decided to go with the Measles, eh? Did it occur to you that the population you’d probably be killing off were fellow purebloods and Slytherins?”

“We sent the inoculation to some families-“ Flora started, but Hestia cut her off.

“Hey, you put us in charge of this plan, so if you had a better idea you should have done it yourself.”

“Ah, Hestia, don’t be offended. I did choose you two ladies, potion extraordinaires, top members of the prestigious Slug Club. And your little epidemic served its purpose, so I applaud you.” He bowed his head at the sisters. Flora merely shrugged with her usual bored expression, but Hestia relished his praise, giving him a smug look, the same look she had when she saw the potion had finally been effective against Hagrid and Grawp from where she had hid in the woods.

“So what’s the next part of the plan?” Flora asked.

“I heard your older siblings are back at home,” Theodore changed the subject abruptly, sipping his tea.

“They’re in hiding,” the twins answered in tandem.

“They’re staying in Liverpool, at a Muggle inn,” Hestia added. “They hate it there,” she snickered.

“Did they use the spell I created?” Theodore asked.

“Yes, apparently Pansy’s father was able to teach it to Alecto before he died. Alecto said Amycus struggled with it though.” Hestia sat up straighter, pushing her bone straight dark blonde hair behind her shoulders.

“ _Flectere Voluntatem Meam_ , ah yes, the incantation must be precise or it will not work.”

The front door opened and the three of them heard shuffling in the hallway, before they saw Pansy, formerly Parkinson now Nott, appear. She was carrying a large brown bag with a large purse slung over her shoulder. She grimaced as she entered the room.

“Oh, lovely, it’s the creepy twins.” She glowered at them.

Theodore clicked his tongue at his wife. “Tsk, tsk, my wife, always the most gracious hostess.”

Pansy set the bag down and rolled her eyes. “So the potion…mildly successful. You had Rita Skeeter in a right panic, which was amusing if nothing else.”

“Glad we could amuse you,” Hestia’s sour demeanor reappeared.

“So what’s the next step?” Flora asked again.

“I need to pay someone a visit.”

“Who?”

“That’s my secret for now.”

“And just when do you plan on letting us in on that secret?”

“In due time, my ladies, in due time.”

“Well Amycus and Alecto are gonna want in on the action-“

“Oh Merlin! That reminds me,” Pansy moved to sit on the arm of Theodore’s chair. “ _The Daily Prophet_ just got wind of the breakout this morning. The Ministry is trying to keep it quiet but news is going to break any minute!”

“Perfect,” Theodore smiled at the twins.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to keep it quiet when news like that used to be all over the front page of the newspaper and wanted posters plastered up all over the place when we were growing up,” Hestia frowned, rubbing her upper arm as if she was cold.

“Yes, well, I think that’s precisely _why_ they’re trying to keep quiet. Azkaban had numerous breakouts in the ‘90s and the Ministry is embarrassed to admit that even with new regulations and the Aurors guarding it they still failed to maintain security. It’s perfect timing really.” Theodore smiled charmingly.

“Alecto said they tried last year but the Aurors were able to stop them.”

“I think it works in our favor that they escaped at the same time as the epidemic. But I don’t want to rush our future plans. I’m going to let this epidemic settle down and news of the breakout run its course then I’ll go visit an acquaintance of my father’s,” Theodore said cryptically.

“And what’s the word on Draco?” Flora continued to prod for information. Clearly Theodore kept his allies in the dark.

Theodore sucked in a deep breath, hesitating on what to say for a brief moment. “Draco is…being unusually stubborn.”

“Unusually?” Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Sounds pretty normal to me.”

Theodore ignored his wife. “I’m going to have to work on him a bit more.”

“So what should we tell Alecto and Amycus?”

“Tell them they may join me when I go to London. They’re actually more familiar with the person I need to visit than I myself am.”

* * *

“Ok, now that everyone is in recovery, I propose that we hold a memorial service for the students and faculty members we lost.” Hermione looked around the table at the tired and disheartened faculty members’ faces. Snape sat to her right, Harry to her left. Madam Pomfrey was still resigned to a hospital bed, but alive thankfully, while everyone else sat around the room in their first faculty meeting since the outbreak had started.

“Well I think there are more important issues to address first,” Bertram Doone, the elderly wizard who was hired to teach Charms when Flitwick became headmaster, said stiffly.

“There are many issues to address,” Hermione nodded, trying to remain patient, already anticipating from the last few faculty meetings that Doone would pose a challenge to keeping the meeting on track. He quickly became known for his long winded tirades about the students and demanding attention to minor issues as if they were the most important problems the wizarding community, nay, the world in general, had ever encountered.

“We need to figure out what to do about the vacant headmaster position. That should be at the top of our priority list,” Doone insisted, the skin underneath his jaw and chin jiggling as he spoke.

Snape cleared his throat and all eyes fell on him. He hadn’t yet told anyone about his private talk with Flitwick just before he died. He hadn’t been certain he _would_ ever tell anyone about Flitwick’s request.

“Headmaster Flitwick left directions. Here is the letter he left-“ Snape passed it Vector.

Vector read over it quickly and then passed it on. “Filius has named Severus as his replacement,” she announced.  
  
“How do we know Filius really wrote that? How do we know you didn’t make it up!” Doone shouted from across the table, pointing a finger at Snape.

“I brought a Pensieve with my memory of our discussion, as well as his memory, for that very reason.” Snape looked bored with the accusation leveled at him.

“Why would Snape lie about anything like this anyway?” Hermione was quick to his defence. “He turned down the Headmaster position in the first place, we know he’s not power hungry.”

“What if he knew we’d be plagued, so he turned it down to save himself!” Doone was growing hysterical by this point.

“That’s nonsense!” Hooch exclaimed, staring daggers at Doone.

“He left the school! Why should we let him be headmaster?”

“Severus had to leave in order for some of us to recognize just how important he is to us,” Trelawney’s voice floated out from the corner in which she sat. She gave Hermione a pointed look, making the younger witch shift uncomfortably in her seat. Snape noticed, and he, too, felt uncomfortable but continued to look impassive.

“I think Severus would make a fine headmaster-“ Hooch replied again, looking at Trelawney like she was daft before she returned her focus to Doone.

“It shouldn’t be up for discussion,” Keighly cut in, bringing attention to himself. “We’ve seen the letter now and you’re welcome to view the memories if you need more proof. But Filius made his decision, now it’s only up to Severus if he wants to accept the job.”

“I will,” Snape said quietly. Hermione felt her heart flutter.

“Great. Now we have other matters to attend to.” Keighly nodded at Hermione, encouraging her to continue.

“Who’s going to be our deputy?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Bertram, we can decide that later! Let’s focus on the memorial and what to do about the month of school we lost. How are the students going to catch up? And we need new faculty members to replace Pomona and Lyra.” Keighly sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“I nominate Neville Longbottom to the Herbology position,” Hermione announced resolutely. “He has clearly demonstrated his skill in the subject and has expressed a passion to teach.”

“I second it,” Harry said quickly.

“We will hold the joint interview with Neville tomorrow then. Bertram will you join Vector, Keighly, and me for the interview?” Snape tried to pacify the older man, who nodded although his lips continued to pout. “Now what about the Astronomy position, any ideas?”

When no one spoke Snape sighed. “I will put out a letter of inquiry tomorrow then. Next order of business?” He looked to Hermione.

“So do we agree in a school wide memorial service?” Hermione asked tentatively. Everyone nodded silently. “Ok, I will organize that. We need to decide what to do about the rest of the school year, catching students up since we’ve lost a month, when and how to do that,” she continued, looking at her to-list in front of her.

Vector looked at Snape and then down at her hands. “I think it would be important for the students to return home and be with their families right now. I know that if I had kids here I would want to see them right after something like this.”

Hermione wrote something down while Snape nodded. “Anyone else want to weigh in?”

“I agree, I think we could all use a little break,” Harry said, looking around the room at the weary faces.

“If we give them the month of March off we’ll have to take away their summer break in July and August to make up for lost time, which would mean the next school year would be over 12 continuous months, grueling for all involved,” Snape pointed out.

“What if we give them March off? They come back in April through July. Then everyone will have August off. We’ll need to amend our schedules, combining some lectures, but if we can somehow fast track their lessons, maybe add in another hour of lessons a day or some Saturday lessons to make up for the loss, but that way they can at least have some time off in the summer still,” Hermione offered.

The staff murmured but within minutes almost everyone agreed with this plan. The faculty would take leave for at least a week as well, giving the house elves plenty of time to clean and disinfect the entire castle.

Snape dismissed the meeting and as Hermione sorted her papers her fingers brushed his accidently, sending a spark of excitement through both of them.

“Sorry,” Hermione apologized quickly, her face reddening. Snape remained silent, but carefully aware of her close proximity and movements. Even if he knew what to say to her he didn’t want to talk in front of everyone else, even if they were all distracted. Harry called out to Hermione and she darted towards him, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from Snape. He pouted in response. _Of course she can’t wait to get away from you, you slimeball. Can you imagine her response if you had actually kissed her?_ Snape shuddered at his cruel thoughts, but fully believing them. He felt like a monster in light of everything in his past; old, shriveled, and unbearable to be around.

* * *

“Hey, we’re going to go grab some drinks, obviously we’re all in desperate need of some libations. Come with us. Vector and Keighly have agreed to hold down the fort here, but the students are all pretty subdued anyway,” Hermione’s gentle voice pulled Snape out of his contemplation as he sat alone in the staffroom. He hadn’t moved since the staff meeting ended thirty minutes before. He didn’t feel like being around the rest of her friends, but her eyes were so inviting that he found himself nodding before he could check himself.

“Great, meet you by the entrance in 5 minutes,” she grinned, the first time she had smiled in weeks. It felt unnatural and her cheek muscles rebelled by immediately tightening up and aching.

Snape found Harry and Neville at the front entrance waiting for Hermione as well. The three men stood awkwardly, avoiding eye contact or polite chit chat. The silence was thick and agonizing. Luckily Hermione didn’t keep them waiting for long and the four trudged through the snow, Hermione keeping the conversation going by asking the other three how they slept the night before. Little to say, even though the four had worked quite well together the last few days, they now felt awkward back in a purely social situation and not the calamitous circumstances of which they had grown accustomed.

Nearing the gate that led to Hogsmeade Snape spotted two red heads and a blonde. Ginny, Ron, and Luna all stood there, bundled up, and chatting away while they waited to be reunited with their loved ones. A faint stab of longing pained Snape’s heart as he dropped his eyes to the white powder in front of him. No one was waiting to see him and it shouldn’t surprise him. He was sure no one would ever wait for him.

Harry began to run, unwilling to be separated from his wife any longer. He flung open the gate and she was instantly in his arms as they squeezed each other tightly.

“Harry, hold me,” Ginny murmured, nuzzling her face into his neck. Tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Neville and Luna didn’t even speak, their lips were attached as soon as they met.

“Oh Ron!” Hermione nearly jumped into Ron’s arms as she hugged him fiercely. Another pain, this time out of jealousy, stabbed Snape’s heart.

“I’m so glad to see you three again!” Ron exclaimed, reaching to pat Harry’s back. Ginny was still clinging to him, crying silently. 

Snape stood behind everyone, feeling awkward and out of place during their reunion.

“Neville, love, this letter was waiting for you at home, I only saw it just before I came here,” Luna finally broke away from her heated kiss with Neville and handed him the letter. Neville frowned when he saw who it was from, ripping it open and turning away from everyone as he read.

“Neville, you ok mate?” Ron asked when Neville turned back around, as white as a ghost.

“Gran died.”

“What?!” Ron and Hermione let out at the same time.

“No!” Luna wrapped her arm around Neville’s back as he continued to stare at the note.

“She was admitted into St. Mungo’s with the rash after a friend talked her into going. She died the next day. 4 days ago.” He began to shake his head violently. “I told her. I told her to be careful and she was just so stubborn!”

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione gathered around Neville and Luna, enveloping them in a group hug, whispering condolences and loving words to Neville.

Snape turned back towards Hogwarts. The trip to Hogsmeade now seemed in bad taste. Even if they still chose to go drinking he didn’t belong there or with them, especially in such a vulnerable moment like this. He felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, with anyone.

Hermione saw him walking away and wanted to call out to him, but the need of comforting Neville tore her attention away. The six of them decided to still get alcohol, but took it back to Neville and Luna’s place instead, drinking late into the night and reminiscing about their younger days. Snape rescheduled Neville’s interview for mid March. Neville and Luna went to visit his parents, still housed in St. Mungo’s, but they didn’t understand the news, of course; and Neville threw himself into funeral preparations for Gran and then subsequently hours upon hours of lesson planning to distract himself from the pain of losing yet another family member.

* * *

Hermione caught Elizabeth Bretton crying in the Gryffindor common room just before the school wide memorial service. The second year Gryffindor had large bags under her eyes and her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Elizabeth hadn’t been one of the students to fall ill, despite the fact that she’d never been vaccinated as a baby.

“Elizabeth?” Hermione sat down next to her and put an arm around the girl, whose shoulders shook. There were two letters spread out on the table in front of her.

“My parents work for the Ministry. She…she,” she hiccupped. “My mum got sick and dad took her to St. Mungo’s.” Elizabeth picked up one of the letters, it shook in her trembling hand. “She died before you and Snape figured out the cure and dad wrote this from the hospital, but I guess Madam Pince was too nervous to give the letter to me in case it might contaminate me. I just got the letter yesterday.”

“Oh Elizabeth, I’m so sorry.” Hermione began rubbing Elizabeth’s back as the young witch bent over, rocking slightly and burying her face in her hands as the tears began to flow again.

“Did your dad get sick, too?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “He’s back at home now, he wrote me a second letter. He wants me to be inoculated before I go home, just in case.”

“We can do that.” Hermione kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head, smoothing her blonde hair. “Sit by me in the memorial service, will you? And afterwards we’ll get you inoculated, ok?” Elizabeth nodded, her eyes red and puffy.

Hermione held Elizabeth’s hand the entire service, with Harry and Ginny sitting on the other side of her. McGonagall gave a eulogy and read the names of all the students and faculty members that died, tears rolling down her face as she read. They held a moment of silence, but cries and sniffling could be heard around the Great Hall. Keighly got up and lamented over Sprout, tearfully talking about how she had been the best friend he’d ever had, his former professor and mentor as a Hufflepuff student himself; Pomfrey mustered the strength to leave the hospital wing to share both sweet and funny memories of working with Flitwick over their long tenure at Hogwarts.

Hermione couldn’t seem to locate Snape until the very end of the service, when she turned and spotted him in the back of the room, his arms folded across his chest, his own face sullen and weary. He must have sensed her looking at him because a second later met her stare with a dark, foreboding look. As a student, Hermione would have cowered in fear, but this look only sent a flutter of nervous excitement throughout her body, accelerating her heart rate and making a flush rise in her cheeks. She turned back towards the front, hoping he didn’t notice her involuntary reaction.

Later that day Hermione, Harry, and Ron joined Hagrid for his own memorial of Grawp.

Hagrid sobbed, unable to talk. Fortunately Hermione had prepared something to say. Hagrid had endured so much loss, Aragog, Dumbledore, and now Grawp. The three of them joined Hagrid for dinner that evening, trying their hardest to bring the half giant’s spirits up by sharing their favorite memories from his classes and the heroism Grawp displayed fighting the Death Eaters in the Battle of Hogwarts.

* * *

"Marilla, Marilla!!” a stout woman in her 40s or 50s toddled through the street, struggling to catch up with a tall and thin elderly witch. Marilla turned towards the voice, she had high cheekbones, a long bumpy nose, and two warts on her chin.

“Marilla! I just heard from Andromeda,” the caller bent over, panting from her short chase, as she tried to share her news from her neighbor, Andromeda Tonks. “Azkaban…”

“I know, Totsy, _everyone_ knows. It was in _The Daily Prophet_ today.”

Totsy’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Do ye think it has to do with the plague?” Her voice shook while Marilla continued to look at her coolly.

“I would bet galleons that it is somehow connected,” Marilla’s voice was low and stern. “And what I find the most disturbing is that the Ministry has kept so quiet about the breakout. It was over a week ago.”

Totsy gaped, hysteria gripping her more with each passing minute. “ _Merlin_ , the Ministry can’t protect us anymore!”

“Perhaps,” Marilla fidgeted with her coin purse. “Minister Shacklebolt doesn’t seem to be much better than the last couple of ministers we’ve had,” she huffed. “Can’t secure order or peace.”            

* * *

“Hey,” Tonks said nervously as she stepped out of the large fireplace in the Ministry building, brushing off some soot from her shoulders. Ron just happened to be passing by and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m glad I caught you before the meeting,” she touched his arm, gesturing to the side of the hallway.

“I’m glad you’re ok, Tonks,” Ron sounded relieved, his eyes sincere.

“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Ron, I really feel like I let you all down by asking for time off. I’ve just been feeling so guilty, and with Robards dying…I’m so sorry. I feel pretty shitty-“

“Hey, hey,” it was Ron’s turn to touch her arm affectionately, his eyes pleading with hers, “you have a child, you’re the _only_ one of us to have a child. And Teddy’s already lost a dad. He needed you there. I don’t blame you. I don’t think Robards blamed you. He gave you the time off, didn’t he? He could have said no, but he knew it was important for you to stay home. And if anyone gives you attitude about it I’ll be the first to put them in their place.”

“You’re being too nice. You must have worked your arse off these last few weeks.”

“Yeah, I did, but I still understand and agree with your decision. Come on, we’re going to be late.”

A couple of minutes later they entered Shacklebolt’s office to find a small group of his advisers were also there.

“Excellent, take a seat. Would either of you like tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please,” Tonks answered.

“I’ll just take water, thanks.” Ron still didn’t have a fondness for tea or coffee, oscillating between alcohol and chocolate milk as his preferred beverages.

“We need to discuss two things, as you may have well guessed. Security at Azkaban and the current situation with the breakout, and filling Gawain Robards’ Head Auror position.”

Everyone nodded, faces gloomy, tension thick in the air.

“Some of the prisoners did not successfully escape Azkaban and have been returned to their cells. New locks were created and stronger charms placed over the prison in general. The Wizengamot has proposed that we find or build a new prison, more modern than Azkaban. I will be holding meetings with them and the Head Auror about that in the weeks to come. Here is a comprehensive list of those who have escaped, their prison sentences, and criminal backgrounds.” Shacklebolt passed a stack of papers off to his right. “Despite my attempts to try to keep this news as quiet as possible so that we don’t cause mass alarm and hysteria, the news of it was leaked and _The Daily Prophet_ has, of course, has begun reporting, which I assume most of you already know.” Shacklebolt looked around the table with a grave face.

“Sir, I’ve had a letter just this morning that asked why this has been kept a secret, that everyone could have joined in on the hunt for the escaped prisoners if they had known sooner,” one of his advisers chimed in.

“I understand and it is something I weighed with much thought. But with the epidemic I wanted to avoid more mass panic. If we remember the various breakouts in the 1990s and the way the media handled them, _The Daily Prophet_ did not really seem to help the cause, only exacerbate the situation. I also didn’t want to encourage anyone who might be prone to sheltering the escapees or aiding their cause in any way. So, I took it upon myself to try to shield the public as much as possible while we try to regain control of the situation.”

A couple of Ministry employees nodded their heads, some looked down at the paper frowning, while a couple more shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It was apparent that there wasn’t a clear consensus among the group on whether or not they agreed with Shacklebolt’s decision. Some felt that it was the public’s right to know, no matter what.

“That being said,” Shacklebolt continued after a brief pause, “the Aurors are hard at work trying to track down the names in the right column. The Carrow Estate is being heavily monitored around the clock, but so far we’ve only seen Hestia and Flora and very little of them anyway,” he tried to reassure everyone. “Which leads me to the next topic:  replacing Gawain Robards. I would like Nymphadora Tonks to fill Robards’ position as Head Auror.”

Tonks’ head snapped forward, her face shocked. “Oh, no, no that isn’t right. I don’t deserve it!”

“You are one of our most established Aurors, the most experience and I know from working with you the fine work you do and skills you have.”

“But I wasn’t at work during the breakout. I had taken time off to be with my son. I really don’t deserve that position, sir.”

“And who do you think should fill it then?”

“Ron, of course.” She looked at Ron across the table from her with determination. “He truly deserves it.” Everyone else turned to look at Ron expectantly.

“No, Tonks is just being humble-“

“No, I’m not.”

“Alright, well why don’t we have you both as co-Head Aurors. Do you think you could work together to create schedules and handle matters? It might be better that way, balance the work load.” Shacklebolt folded his hands in front of him, waiting for Tonks and Ron to answer. They stared at each other from across the table, wide eyed and overwhelmed with everything that had occurred in the last month.

“I would be honored to serve with Ron,” Tonks said quietly.

Ron nodded silently at Shacklebolt.

“Good. I think this will be a very good thing for our community.”

* * *

Snape found Vector in her classroom the night of the memorial service, the day before everyone would take a short leave of Hogwarts.

“Headmaster,” she smiled, bowing her head slightly, before turning her attention back to the papers she was sorting through.

“Septima,” his voice returned her affection. “I’ve come to ask a favor.”

“Oh no,” she said dramatically, but smiling, coming around her desk and gesturing to a couple of armchairs near the windows. The night sky was cloudless, stars twinkled. “Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“Tea would be fine, thank you.” He sat, staring out into the night.

She handed him a tea cup and blew on her own to cool it. She waited for him to begin, looking at him expectantly.

“I’ve come to ask if you would be my deputy.”

Vector took a sip of her tea and paused, contemplative. She followed his line of sight and looked out at the stars as well.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? When you finally stop long enough to appreciate nature, without having to rush off somewhere or cross off the next thing on your to-do list.”

He remained silent, deep in contemplation of his own. Vector observed his profile for a good minute before deciding to answer.

“I think someone else may be better suited to assist you and I think you want to ask her anyway.” Snape looked at Vector, alarmed by her candor. “You asking me to fill the position…it’s just a formality-“

“You are well suited for the position, Septima,” he interrupted.

“Yes, but you feel _obligated_ to ask me. I’m not your first choice. I am simply one of the eldest, sadly, and most tenured faculty-“

“Which is why the job should go to you-“

“That doesn’t mean I am the most worthy. I am well suited for the Head of Ravenclaw House and that is where I prefer to stay. And you should choose someone who compliments you, who has the strengths you don’t and vice versa.”

“So you refuse?”

“I refuse, Severus.”

He sighed, rising to leave. “Fine.”

“I will be the first to show my approval for Hermione as your deputy and I know there will be others. You two seem to be an impressive pairing.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Vector, scowling, but his antics never seemed to phase her and she just smiled back at him from her chair.

* * *

Snape knocked on Hermione’s door. It was late, far too late in the night for him to be visiting her bedroom. And yet here he was. When she opened her door he found only a candle burning in the background and her bed sheets turned down, open and inviting. _No_ , he thought murderously. _Do not entertain those kinds of thoughts._

She was in flannel pajamas and barefoot. “Oh no, is someone else sick?”

“No, nothing like that.” Snape stared at Hermione until she moved her head to the side, giving him a confused look.

“So what is it? You know it’s like midnight, right?”

“Sorry, it can wait.” He turned to retreat, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait…tell me. What is it?” She continued to look at him curiously, but now her eyes were softer, her cheeks suddenly very rosy.

“No…I need to ask you in a more formal way, I’m sorry for disturbing you in the middle of the night.”

Hermione’s blush deepened, her chest noticeably rising and falling. “Please…”

“Fine, I have been speaking to other faculty members tonight and they have advised me to ask you to be my deputy headmistress.” _There, now it sounds like it was their idea, and not something I actually do really want._

“Oh…” Hermione breathed out, clearly expecting a different question. She blinked a couple of times, staring at the ground. “Uh, yeah, sure,” she replied absentmindedly. He stared hard at her, confused about her reaction.

“Are you positively sure?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yes, yes I am,” she collected herself, giving him a tight lipped smile, gripping her door now as if to close him out as soon as possible.

“Very well,” he bowed his head and walked away silently. She stared at him for a few more seconds, her eyes calculating, before closing her door.

* * *

Hermione continued to stand by her door for another couple of minutes, her fingers lightly resting against the wood, her eyes staring at the door handle as if trying to decide if she should go after him.

She had thought for a minute he was going to ask her on a date… _that would be absurd, Hermione, why would you even think that?_ Hermione felt awkwardly ashamed for thinking that, but still…they had almost kissed! That couldn’t have been in her imagination! He had held her so close, closer than when they had danced together, he had _looked_ like he wanted to kiss her. No, that had been real. So...it just wishful thinking on her part then? She slowly made her way to her bed and climbed in, hugging her knees to her chest. She couldn’t deny that she felt disappointed.

The strangest thing was she could practically feel his presence outside her door before he knocked. She was surprised, yes, but mostly because she instinctively knew he was there before he let his presence be known. Hermione had never had that happen with anyone else before. She may be gifted in many other ways, but intuition was never one of her strengths. Maybe it was just a fluke, a coincidence. But as she blew out the candle and settled into bed she decided she would pay attention and see if it happened again.

* * *

Inside his own room, his old room in the dungeons that he decided to reclaim, he poured himself a drink of firewhisky and sat down on the sofa, feeling unsettled about his interaction with Hermione.

_You really are a dolt, Severus Snape. Going to her room at midnight? Peering into her room? Getting distracted by her rumpled bed sheets? Acting like a fool?_

He tried to escape her and now she was his deputy. They would now work closely together, be partners, at least in a business sense. Dumbledore had been scheming, McGonagall as well, he couldn’t even trust the Mirror of Erised, it betrayed him too.

_It didn’t betray you, you want her, you damn torpe. Now what are you going to do about it?_

But Snape wouldn’t have much time to think about the issue for the next few months. The very next day everyone packed up and the faculty escorted the kids to the train; Hermione was gone by the end of the day. Snape stayed alone in the castle for another night before leaving for Spinner’s End for the rest of the week.

Snape remained in the Headmaster’s office once he returned to Hogwarts in March, sorting papers, making arrangements for Flitwick’s Headmaster’s portrait, organizing the schedules and hunting for a new Astronomy professor. Needless to say, it preoccupied his time.

Everyone hustled when they returned in April, trying to catch up and prepare students for their final exams, O.W.L.’s, and N.E.W.T.’s that were now scheduled for July. When Snape did see Hermione it was in the fleeting moments of mealtimes, passing in the hallway, or the occasional faculty meeting he’d call. Neither had time to address what had happened in the hospital at the end of February, although the memory of it constantly replayed in both their minds.

* * *

  **A/N-References made in chapter:** Torpe **-** a man who can’t admit his feelings for a woman he loves. If you haven’t noticed yet, I like to name some OC’s after literary characters. This chapter gives a nod at R.D. Blackmore’s _Lorna Doone_ and Lucy Maud Montgomery’s _Anne of Green Gables_ series for Marilla’s name. I chose Theodore Nott because JKR has said that she knew much more about his character than what was revealed in the books & if you look up his bio stuff on the Harry Potter wikia site you'll find that he was actually really gifted with inventing new charms. Both those things gave me inspiration.

 **Thank you for reading, reviewing, the kudos, and subscribing!!**  

* * *

**Chapter 17 Teaser:**

“Here, in the potions classroom?” She stammered, looking around frantically.

“Here.” He sauntered forward, his eyes dark and stormy with lust.

“But the students-“

“I locked the door, and” he raised an eyebrow as she opened her mouth to argue again “put a silencing charm around the room.”

Her jawed dropped. “I wouldn’t be loud.” She raised her chin more out of habit, but decided to embrace the indignant look anyway.

“I want you to be loud,” his voice sounding like rolling thunder, dark and stormy like his eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are 3 lines ahead that are taken from a Colonel Brandon scene in Sense and Sensibility. See if you can spot them!
> 
> Oh, also, smut/lemons ahead! If you’re not a fan just skim those scenes but there will be a bit more than we’ve had so far in this story. If I could post a gif here it would be the one of Michael Scott on The Office yelling “it’s happening!” during the fire drill lol

**_It’s ok, it’s ok, to let your heart race  
_ ** **_So let go, let go of going slow_ (Go by Gracie and Rachel)**

Snape’s vision blurred momentarily, before becoming clear again. He was dry heaving, desperate for oxygen, a bitter taste in his mouth. Hermione, he had to find Hermione. His vision blurred, yet again. He began walking, the ground under his feet was soft and muddy. That’s when he noticed his face was wet, not with perspiration or tears, but from the rain. He walked for what felt like hours. Just when his legs began to give out he saw her in the distance, rain running down her face and hair as well, her eyes sad. She watched him struggle towards her, trying to stay on his feet, sometimes falling to his knees, almost crawling.

Finally he reached her, lifting a hand to caress her cold cheek. He moved her wet hair behind her shoulder tenderly and bent to kiss her, a deep and passionate kiss. _“You came back,”_ she whispered when they finally broke away from their kiss.

Snape woke, feeling heavy and groggy. He punched the pillow next to him, groaning into his own pillow. It was mid August, the castle was mostly empty of its occupants for the time being. Snape had never been one to sleep well, but in the last couple of months his nights were often plagued with sensual dreams involving Hermione. While this most recent dream seemed to have a plot, the other dreams were mostly fragments of him bedding her. Frustrating, but highly erotic. His lips moving along her smooth legs, while he looked down on her naked body, sprawled out across his bed. Images of her biting her lips and whimpering as his tongue pleasured her. Grabbing a handful of her curls as her hair fanned out across his lap, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Pushing her up against a wall and whispering dirty things in her ear, one of her legs involuntarily wrapping around his waist. Their foreheads pressed together as he pumped in and out of her, listening to her breathing, her hands buried in his hair, their bodies slick with sweat.

Needless to say Snape spent many mornings over the summer relieving the pent up sexual desires, trying not to imagine her face or body, but failing each and every single time as he reached orgasm, leaning against the wall of his shower, his seed washing down the drain.

* * *

Snape and Hermione had only seen each other a handful of times in August, but neither had addressed their near kiss, both of them too nervous to bring it up. They both assumed the other wouldn’t return such affections. But now it was a few days before the new school year and the faculty was back and meeting to sort out the new schedules. Hermione arrived with Harry and Neville, sitting in between them, which greatly annoyed Snape. It was like the two boys, err _men_ , were her bodyguards, constantly flanking her. Snape sat staring at her, completely lost in his own mind, the memories of his sex dreams begging for attention.

Keighly jogged in, thinking he was late for the meeting, only to find it hadn’t started yet. Glancing at the clock he realized that he was, in fact, a few minutes late. Confused, he looked around until he saw Snape looking completely distracted and enamored by Hermione, who didn’t seem to notice as she chatted with Harry and Neville. Keighly smirked at the look on Snape’s facing. A few seats around the room were empty, but he chose the one right next to Snape, sliding into it, but still not gaining the attention of the new headmaster. Keighly cleared his throat, leaning towards Snape’s ear so that it wasn’t loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“Sorry I’m late,” Keighly gave Snape a lopsided grin, his eyes teasing.

“Fuck,” Snape muttered under his breath but quickly gained his composure and called for the meeting to begin, trying to ignore the way Keighly smiled at him with a knowing expression.

The students returned with a swell of energy, seemingly revived after the horror of the year before. Hermione smiled warmly at the four Houses after the new students had been sorted. The feast was divine. Snape had fine tuned the menu, requesting the House Elves serve fish and chips, bangers and mash, and lamb to choose from as the main course, as well as an array of fruit and vegetables. For dessert he had ordered trifle, butterscotch pudding, and brownies. 

At last he stood up to introduce the new faculty members. Both Neville and Cassiopeia Uhuru, a young witch from Kenya who specialized in Astronomy, had started in April after the epidemic, but he introduced them formally anyway. Lourdes Magellan, who had previously taught at Beauxbatons in France, was the newest hire, teaching Muggle Studies. After the round of applause for the new professors died down, Snape shifted looking very uncomfortable with all the attention on him. Hermione could tell he was wincing as he struggled to begin the expected Headmaster speech.

“Good evening. This year we will strive to be our best. Best teachers, best students, best Houses. In order to do our best the school needs to run efficiently, smoothly, and without chaos. We all must do what we can, to the best of our abilities, to ensure that this school year is successful. I will not allow anything less than your best. Try and succeed. If you fail, try again. Try until you accomplish. A defeatist attitude will not be acceptable here.”

He nodded and waited. Everyone looked at him with a mixture of confusion, fear, and dismay. It dawned on Hermione that that was the extent of his speech. Abrupt, blunt, and pragmatic. He was still waiting, apparently for the customary applause. She cleared her throat, raising her eyebrows slightly at him when he turned to look back at her. “That’s it?” she whispered, her eyes implored him. He frowned, turning back to face the students and paused, searching for what to say next.

“No doubt,” his voice bellowed out before he corrected his tone to be gentler, “no doubt, we have all faced great loss and tragedy more recently, but even some of you may have unpleasant memories from years ago. Those of your in your 7th year mark an important point on the Hogwarts timeline. You were in your 1st year when the Battle of Hogwarts occurred. And now you’ve overcome many obstacles to get where you are today. You survived and have triumphed. You are the epitome of strength and resilience and you should recognize that in yourselves. You didn’t cower in fear, but returned to school with your heads held high, ready to learn. The rest of you have proved to learn many great lessons from the 2nd Wizard War as well. Many of you have abandoned the former prejudices that plagued our society. I’ve seen first hand students from all 4 Houses form close relationships. This will produce long lasting benefits for our community and I commend you. Now enjoy your desserts and be off to bed. 1st years, you will follow your Prefects to your dorms once you are done.”

This time the students applauded enthusiastically, as Snape stepped down from the podium and retreated back to his seat, his face stony. 

“That second attempt was much better than the first,” Hermione cracked a sly smile when he sat back down beside her.

“Both were needed,” he growled.

“True, but I’m glad you added the rest.”

“If you have so many good ideas why don’t you get up and deliver the speech yourself next time.”

“Well if you’re offering I surely will.”

“Already thinking of a coup d’état, Ms. Granger?”

“I’m more ambitious than you think,” she played along teasingly as she smiled down into her pudding.

He grunted as he scooped up a spoonful of pudding. She could have sworn she saw a faint smile play at the corner of his lips.

* * *

Neville thrashed about in the bed, pulling the sheets along with him.

“Neville…” Luna moaned, groggily, trying to pull the sheets back towards her. When he didn’t stop her eyes shot open and she turned to hold him. “Neville,” she said more firmly.

“Nooooooo!!” he shrieked, jolting upright and gasping for breath.

“Neville, wake up. It’s a dream. It’s just a dream.”

He clutched at her, his eyes open now but he had a faraway look in them. “Luna, are you real? Are you here?” He touched her face, moving his hands all over her features, searching for authenticity.

“Yes, Neville, my love, you had a dream.” 

“Everyone in my family is gone,” he held the sides of her face firmly, his eyes wild as sweat from his nightmare drenched his body. “You’re all I have left, Luna. Pl-Please, Luna,” his voice shook, “you can’t ever leave me. Please don’t leave me.” He threw his arms around her, clutching her body tightly.

“You’re hurting me, Neville,” she winced.

“Luna…please, promise me,” he pleaded. “I never really knew my parents. Now gran’s gone. Please, don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me.” He held her in his arms, more gently now, rocking her back and forth as he winced, still reeling from the nightmare.

“Oh Neville, my love,” she said soothingly, she knew all too well the way death gripped people’s hearts, not even relenting in their unconscious states. She had heard her father have a few nightmares after her mother died, calling out to her mother from his sleep.

After another minute he began to loosen his grip her and she helped him rearrange the bed sheets he had pulled every which way and get comfortable again. She laid beside him, smoothing his hair with her hand and watched as he fell back asleep again.

Crawling out of bed, she slipped a light blue silk robe on and made her way into the kitchen of their new house, a house just down the street from Harry and Ginny now that Neville also taught at Hogwarts. She filled the antique looking tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove, readying some chamomile tea. She glanced at the boxes they hadn’t unpacked yet and sighed. They moved just a few days before the school year started and neither had had much time to unpack anything other than the necessities.

Luna was currently devoted to a new project, continuing research on the fire slug in the Brazilian rainforest that Newt Scamander had started decades earlier. Her research specifically focused on their reproduction, which often resulted in a mating ritual, but as Luna was discovering, the fire slugs were also asexual and could reproduce on their own. Currently she was trying to study the differences between when they chose mates and when they chose to reproduce asexually. Fire slugs had a tendency to burn their mates during the act at times, whether that was accidental or intentional she wasn’t sure. The other hypothesis she’d made was that when fire slugs procreated asexually their offspring tended to be stronger, with more powerful magical capabilities. Needless to say, Luna was spending a lot of time observing slug sex. She was currently planning another trip to Brazil in October for a month to record research on them in their natural habitat.

“Well I guess no time is better than the present,” she said in a sing-song tone and bent down to begin unpacking, sipping on her tea intermittently.

When Neville woke a few hours later he felt the bed empty beside him. Confused he rubbed his eyes and crawled out of the bed, stumbling a bit from his stupor. He glanced in the bathroom as he passed it, but saw the light off. Blinking as sunlight filtered in through the windows he looked around the kitchen and living room in amazement. Luna was curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea, her 5th one to be exact, reading the newspaper upside down, the morning light making her hair look even more angelic and wispy than usual.

“You unpacked _everything_?”

“It’s very easy to get accomplished when one’s been awake since 3 am.” Her eyes danced with merriment, surprising Neville that she wasn’t irritable after being awake half the night when most people would be.

“Why have you been awake since 3?”

“Don’t you remember? You nearly squeezed me to death in your sleep.”

Neville looked genuinely puzzled, rubbing the back of his head. His hair stuck up and out, a perfect definition of bed head. “Was it another nightmare?”

“Afraid so.”

“Gah, Luna, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, really. I’m glad all the unpacking is done.”

He moved to sit next to her on the sofa. “I just want to feel normal again.”

She put her cup of tea and newspaper on the table and began rubbing his back. “But what is normal? We’re all constantly in flux. We change, our circumstances change, the people around us change. You need to allow yourself to grieve. But even more so you should use this experience of losing your family to show empathy towards others, because others will face similar loss in the future and you can be there for them.”

He slumped over to lay his head in her lap. “Luna how did you get so wise?” he asked rhetorically.

She smiled faintly, smoothing her husband’s hair again like she’d done only hours before.

* * *

“Hey, it’s the first Hogwarts Quidditch game today. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor,” Harry walked behind the sofa as he grabbed his Gryffindor scarf out of the coat closet. He glanced at Ginny, dosing on the sofa, as he passed again.

“Ginny?”

“Hmm? What’d you say?” Her voice was low and groggy. She opened her eyes slowly as if it took great effort to do so.

“I told you about the game earlier this week.” He walked out of the kitchen, munching on an apple.

“What game?” She laid still, facing away from him.

“The Quidditch game at Hogwarts. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor,” he repeated with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “Are you napping? It’s 10 am.”

She groaned and shifted slightly. “I didn’t sleep well last night, ok?” She snapped back.

Harry sighed and came around the sofa, sitting on the edge by her stomach. “I’m sorry,” he stroked her hair, his eyes showing remorse. “I wish you felt better.”

She shrugged. “Go on to the game without me. I don’t feel like going out today.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” she replied flatly, closing her eyes again.

He rose from the sofa. “Ok, I’ll be back later. I’ll make dinner tonight, ok? How does spaghetti sound?”

“Sounds good,” she murmured.

Harry made his way around Hogsmeade, buying some groceries at The Magic Neep and picking up some chocolates for Ginny at Honeydukes. He dropped the groceries off at home, finding Ginny asleep in the same position on the sofa, before he slipped out of their house again to walk to Hogwarts. It was a beautiful day in late September and Harry enjoyed the solitude of his walk. He was still working a couple of days a week as an Auror, while teaching at Hogwarts. Luckily his goal of increasing interest in the Auror position had worked and a lot of the graduating class from last year applied to be Aurors, lessening everyone’s workload. Ron and Tonks had easily settled into an amicable working partnership as co-Head Aurors. They had hunted down a couple of the escapees but the Carrow siblings were still at large.

Harry made his way into the stands to see McGonagall sitting alone. It was early and students were just then starting to wander outside towards the pitch. He didn’t see Hermione or Neville yet. 

“Hello Professor McGonagall,” Harry said as he sat down beside her.

“Harry, please, I haven’t been your professor in years. Please call me Minerva.”

“Minerva,” he repeated. “Yeah, Hermione told me that’d feel strange.” He laughed, his cheeks rosy from his walk.

“And where is your lovely wife today?”

“Oh she’s at home.”

“I’m surprised she’s missing this game.”

“She’s been feeling a bit down lately,” Harry answered without really thinking.

“Down?”

“Well…yeah,” Harry looked around to see if anyone was in earshot yet, “like kinda depressed. But not really depressed,” he tried to redact his explanation. He’d said too much, Ginny would be livid if she found out.

“For how long?” McGonagall turned to him, searching his face anxiously.

“Oh…umm not very long. Err…starting around the epidemic. I guess it really threw her off.” Harry licked his lips nervously. “Listen, I know I can trust you, but please don’t mention this to anyone. You know, for the sake of her privacy. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I won’t,” McGonagall looked forward again, blinking a few times. “Perhaps I could make a social call on her?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, “I think that’d be great.”

“Very well. Oh Hermione, hello!”

“Good afternoon Minerva, Harry!” Hermione weaved her way through the students to join the two. Keighly followed closely behind her, shooting his quintessential boyish grin at McGonagall.

“Minerva, come back to us, please,” he reached across Hermione and Harry at the former headmistress. McGonagall just laughed in return, her eyes clearly indicating she was pleased by Keighly’s somewhat flirtatious flattery. Hermione shook her head. Keighly would flirt with just about anyone or anything she was beginning to realize. Neville arrived, his arms full of sweets to share with the group.

Snape gave a curt nod towards the group as he roamed into the stands, but seeing as the other seats around them had already filled up, he was left to sit with Bertram Doone, two rows in front of them. Hermione hid a smile behind her hand, knowing that being forced to endure a game with Doone by his side would be most irksome for him.

It was not lost on Hermione that every so often during the game Snape turned around and shot a quick glance at their group, scowling. But she pretended not to notice, enjoying her time with Keighly, Harry, McGonagall, and Neville instead. _If Snape wants to spend time with me so bad he could very well stop being so formal around me and make more of an effort_ , she thought stubbornly, refraining from the temptation to scowl back at him the next time he turned to face her.

* * *

“Hey mate,” Keighly nodded to Snape as he pulled out the barstool next to Snape’s at the Three Broomsticks later that afternoon. Snape grunted his reply. Keighly ordered a drink, giving Rosmerta a once-over when she brought the glass to him.

“Good game today, cheers to your team and their win,” Keighly held his glass out, clinking it against Snape’s.

“I would think you wouldn’t root for Slytherin over Gryffindor.”

“I don’t. Just trying to be nice.” Keighly grinned at Snape who just rolled his eyes in return. Keighly took a long drink before setting his glass down firmly and twitching his jaw. “You can stop staring daggers at me, by the way,” he addressed Snape cryptically.

Snape turned his head ever so slightly, but didn’t look at Keighly. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think you do. I saw you at the game. And I’ve seen you do it other times too.” Keighly paused briefly. “I don’t like Hermione. I mean, not romantically. I’m not pursuing her, just so you know.”

Snape sat up straighter, his eyes flaring with anger. But Keighly continued. “She’s definitely great, smart and beautiful, but I have my eyes on another.”

Snape caught Keighly raise his eyebrows and wink suggestively at Rosmerta when she caught his eye. She, in turn, pursed her lips and looked him up and down seductively.

“Rosmerta, really?” Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really. We’ve…met up a few times. She’s a good bedfellow, if you know what I mean.” He nudged Snape, who rolled his eyes.

“I’m not in love with Hermione.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Keighly pointed out. Snape narrowed his eyes at him. “Look,” Keighly continued, “sometimes it’s ok to just let go and act on it. Don’t overanalyze it so much.”

“Act on what?”

“Your attraction.”

“Hermione would no more think of me than she would a goblin, a basilisk, or a troll.”

“Come now, Severus, don’t think of yourself so meanly.”

“All the better for her.”

Keighly, sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Look, I don’t like talking about this kind of stuff, especially with someone like you. And I don’t think you enjoy talking about it either. All I wanna say is she _enjoys_ you, for whatever reasons, only God knows why it seems, and I think the attraction is mutual. I’m not lying. I wish you coulda seen her when you were gone. She looked miserable all the time. And with you back…she’s happier again. So I say, for your sake and hers, stop being a bloody prat and _do_ something about it.”

Snape remained silent for a couple of minutes, finishing his drink. Keighly didn’t press him any further, Snape seemed tense and lost in thought. Finally Snape slapped some galleons down on the table and rose to leave without another word to Keighly.

* * *

Snape’s stride was purposeful and insistent, his eyes determined. He met a few students in the corridors on his way. He ignored them as they pushed to the sides of the corridor, out of his way, hoping they weren’t in trouble. The look on his face was somewhat indecipherable; to others he looked furious. But he wasn’t angry in the traditional sense, just furiously tired of agonizing over his lust for Hermione.

He reached her room and knocked. Once, twice, three times. “Hermione?” he called out, his voice low and rough. Still nothing. He stifled a groan of frustration, wanting to pound down her door and pounce on her.

He turned sharply, assessing her other possible whereabouts on a Saturday night. She hadn’t requested leave, so he knew she was in Hogwarts, unless she deliberately disobeyed rules. The thought infuriated him all the more. _How dare she? She’s deputy headmistress! She should know better!_ He fumed at his own recklessly drawn conclusions. He marched towards the library, his next best guess, trying to quell his presumptuous anger.

She was, indeed, in the library. _Typical_ he thought sarcastically, but he stopped himself from approaching her when he saw what she was doing. There was a group of about 20 or so students gathered around a large table. A collection of students representing all 4 Houses, listening to her intently. _A study session?_ No, it couldn’t be, students from various years were gathered. He silently snuck behind a bookcase to hear what she was saying. She was going over different forms of government. As he listened for a few more minutes he learned that she had formed a type of student council, not just Prefects who were chosen by faculty members, but students of their own volition who wanted to work with other Houses as representatives.

Snape sighed. _Well good for her_ , but he was still left with his overwhelming desire. If she had only been alone…He imagined taking her in the library. In the restricted section. Groaning to himself he turned abruptly on his heel and stomped back to his office. If he didn’t act soon he would lose his nerve. But Keighly was right, something had to give.

* * *

Snape sat alone in his office the next morning, his right hand balled so tightly into a fist that his knuckles were white, looking ready to tear through his skin. He glanced at the large grandfather clock. 11 am exactly. He had so much pent up sexual frustration, he couldn’t take it anymore. Plus Hermione was late to their usual Sunday headmaster-deputy meeting, just another reason to be frustrated. The hand of the clock hit 11:01. Ok, _now_ she was late. Unusual for her. He glanced up to Dumbledore’s portrait, but the former Headmaster was fast asleep. _This is somehow all his doing_ Snape thought grumpily. _Damn him._ He growled and abruptly stood. Flinging the door to his office open, he descended the stairs like a madman, his robe billowing around him. He needed her and he couldn’t deny it any longer.

Again, he tried her room first. Nothing, just like the night before. He went down another floor and heard a chorus of laughter coming from the staffroom. Rounding the entryway he saw Hermione sitting with a group of fellow professors. Her back was to him, but the others grew silent and serious when they saw the look on his face. He cleared his throat, causing her to turn and look a little frightened. _Good_ he thought proudly. She hardly ever seemed frightened of him anymore.

“I believe you are now a few minutes late to our meeting.”

“I’m sorry, Severus! I totally lost track of time!” She got up, bumping the table clumsily.

He grew confused when she headed to the stairs and started descending towards the dungeon. “And where do you think you’re going?” He followed her, stepping onto the swiveling staircase just in time.

“I was going to grab my notebook for our meeting, I left it in the classroom. I’m so sorry I’m late! I really didn’t mean any disrespect!” She seemed flustered. He sighed.

“I don’t like having my time wasted.” He stalked behind her as she practically jogged to the classroom. He wanted to get her riled up. Oh how much he enjoyed wild, raging Hermione. The spark in her eyes. The twitch in her lips. The color on her cheeks.

“I know! I really am sorry, please believe me!”

“It was hardly professional of you.”

Finally she turned around, snapping in anger. “I said I’m sorry! It won’t happen again! What is your problem?!”

“You’re my problem.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?!” If looks could kill he’d be dead. “If you think I’m so insufferable then you should have reconsidered asking me to be your deputy! Then we wouldn’t have to spend time together! I’m _terribly_ sorry I’m so awful to be around, but mark my words, Severus Snape, you’re not all that wonderful to be around either! You’re a stubborn git who quite frankly gets on my nerves far too often!”

He smirked. “Are you quite finished?” His voice was calmer now, which threw her off.

“No and-“

“Be quiet, Granger. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m tired of feeling this way. This frustrated. This…desperate.” Her eyes widened, making his eyes flash with triumph at properly confusing her. “Oh yes, I said desperate. ‘Desperate for what’ you may ask. For you,” he looked her up and down darkly. “This sexual tension that’s lasted for months. I can’t take it any longer. Something must be done.”

She heard the click of the lock on the door and her mind finally recognized the meaning of his words. She stared back at him, her heart thumping.

“Here, in the potions classroom?” She stammered, looking around frantically.

“Here.” He sauntered forward, his eyes dark and stormy with lust.

“But the students-“

“I locked the door, and” he raised an eyebrow as she opened her mouth to argue again “put a silencing charm around the room.”

Her jawed dropped.

“I wouldn’t be loud.” She raised her chin more out of habit, but decided to embrace the indignant look anyway.

“I want you to be loud,” his voice sounding like rolling thunder, dark and stormy like his eyes.

A whimper escaped her lips. He was now standing so close she could feel his warmth and clothing lightly brushing against hers. She looked up into his black eyes, her knees feeling weak.

Before she could react, he had his right arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her torso to his body. His lips came crashing down on hers with a ferocity that both frightened and exhilarated her. His left hand caressed the back of her neck before tangling his fingers in her hair and giving a light tug as he deepened the kiss. Her heart pounded wildly.

There was nothing shy or cautious about this kiss. From the moment his lips hit hers it was passionate and desperate. He only waited for a minute before exploring her mouth with his tongue, which she readily allowed. He caressed her tongue, moving in a rhythmic motion that made her body throb with need. His movements inside her mouth indicated that his tongue would feel just as good, if not even better, between her legs.

He started to bite at her lower lip causing a moan to escape her lips. Finding encouragement, he moved his right hand from her back, down to the front of her skirt, caressing her thigh and playing with the hem.

He rubbed the inside of one of her legs, a slow movement that matched that of his tongue, still buried inside her mouth. She trembled against his body. He could feel the heat from her core against his hand. He barely gave her space and time to breathe. He couldn’t believe she was reacting to him this quick, this much. Self doubt had hindered him for months and now their bodies were melting together from a torrent of desire. The thought of what was going on between them was enough to stimulate him, let alone the feel of her body’s reaction, the sounds she kept making, the way she now clung to him.

He brushed his fingers against the front of her underwear and then between her legs.

“Uhhhh,” her voice was raspy, pulling away from his mouth for enough time to cry out.

He looked at her hungrily. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.” He said lowly, his mouth right next to her ear, making her shiver. His left hand was still intertwined in her curls and he yanked her head back again, more urgently this time, kissing her neck just under her ear.

“Ohhhh please.”

“Please what?” He smirked.

“I need…”

“Use your words, Granger.” His mouth resumed its place on her neck.

“I thought you always wanted me to shut up,” her voice was strained.

“I’ll make an exception,” he bit her ear lightly. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”

She made a throaty sound, moving her left hand shakily, which had been gripping her desk behind her, to grab his hand that had been teasing her. She moved it back between her legs and began using his fingers to stroke herself.

“You little puppeteer,” he chuckled. He pulled his face back to look at her. She had her eyes closed, her mouth partly open, her torso slightly moving back and forth as she continued using his hand to stimulate herself. He was ready to lose it just at the sight of her.

“So wet,” he said through grit teeth, his mouth right up on her ear. “I can feel it through your panties.” He breathed out hot air, which sent her into a frenzy, her legs starting to give out. He pushed her into a sitting position on the desk and moved between her legs. For the first time since their encounter started she opened her eyes. Her need was written plainly across her face. She welcomed him between her legs, wrapping them around him. They were still completely dressed, but just the warmth radiating between them was enough to drive each of them crazy.

He resumed kissing her mouth, this time using his free hand to reach up and begin unbuttoning her white blouse. He took his time with the buttons, which seemed to drive her insane because the minute her shirt was open she flung it off and onto the floor. He gave her a quizzical look, but she just wrapped both her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers again.

His thumb was now making slow circles between her legs. She bucked against him. No doubt she felt his erection. Her hands flew to his belt buckle and fumbled with it.

He chuckled, amused by her quick responses. Normally he would be annoyed with a long lasting foreplay session, but with Hermione he found himself actually wanting something agonizingly slow. Just as she unzipped his pants there was a knock at the door.

Her eyes flew to his, her face paling. She covered her mouth with her hand in horror.

“Professor Granger, are you in there? Please, I need you,” a female student called out.

Neither of them answered, both forgetting he had placed a silencing charm; neither of them moved a muscle either.

“Professor, please, I know it’s your personal time to get grading done, I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t serious.” It was Elizabeth at the door.

Hermione motioned for Snape to move back. She quickly jumped off the desk and retrieved her shirt, buttoning it up in a hurry. Snape followed suit, making sure his pants were back in order.

“Yes, Elizabeth, just give me a minute.”

“Professor Granger?” More knocking.

“I’m coming! Just a minute!”

Out of her periphery she saw Snape point his wand at the ceiling. Confused, she stopped and stared at him. “What-“

“Silencing charm.”

“Oh my gosh, of course! Well that proved useful then.”

He smirked. “Told you.” He pointed his wand at her stomach.

“What?” She pinched her eyebrows together.

“Your buttoning skills are most unruly.” He cocked his eyebrow. She looked down to find she had missed two buttons and the others were all lopsided.

“Thanks!”

“Elizabeth?” Hermione called out hesitantly. “Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, sorry. I was in the back putting together some potion ingredients and didn’t hear you at first.” Hermione swung the door open to find Elizabeth grimacing and holding her abdomen. “Elizabeth, are you ok? Oh no, please don’t tell me we’re having another epidemic.”

Elizabeth caught sight of Snape moving behind Hermione and winced. “No, I’m not feeling sick like that.”

Elizabeth eyed Snape wearily as he stepped around the two of them and gave a curt nod to Hermione. “We’ll continue this later I presume?”

Hermione gaped at him for a few seconds before composing herself. “I, uh, yes. We can discuss it.”

“Discuss it? Or keep working on the experiment?” He stood behind Elizabeth and cocked an eyebrow at Hermione, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

“Severus!” she cried out in frustrated, grabbing Elizabeth’s shoulders and moving her down the hallway. “I will see you later,” she said over her shoulder. Turning back to Elizabeth, “let’s go up to my room and talk, ok?”

* * *

Hermione and Elizabeth talked for hours that afternoon. Elizabeth really needed a grown woman, an older sister figure, at that moment. Hermione had guessed pretty quickly by the way Elizabeth had acted in the hall outside the Potions classroom what was going on with her. Hermione spoiled the 13-year-old girl with chocolate and sparkling cider, toasting to Elizabeth’s “new womanhood,” while Elizabeth giggled. Hermione explained to Elizabeth the different options she had when it came to feminine products and gave her a dose of pain relief potion for the cramping.

“I can’t imagine what my dad would have done if I had gone to him with this news,” Elizabeth giggled, sprawled out on Hermione’s sofa.

Hermione shook her head, smiling warmly. “Dads can be tricky. But he’ll realize sooner or later, no doubt, even if you don’t tell him.”

“Do I have to tell him?”

“It’s entirely up to you.”

“Did you tell your dad?”

“No, I didn’t. But again, they kinda just figure out or assume eventually.”

“I really wish my mom was still here today.” Elizabeth’s face grew sober. “I wish I could tell her.”

Hermione, sitting on the floor by the couch, reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “I know you do.”

“I’m glad you were here for me,” Elizabeth smiled weakly at Hermione, her blue eyes tearful.

“Me too.”

* * *

Hermione was brushing her teeth when she heard a soft knock at her door. Sighing, she spit into the sink in her bathroom and crossed the room to find Snape leaning against the door frame.

“Looks like I caught you at a good time,” he eyed the toothbrush still in her hand.

“I’m getting ready for bed,” Hermione tried to sound annoyed, but a wet heat was already pooling between her legs as her eyes met his.

“Perfect, then.” He came in without an invitation and shut the door behind him, leaning his back against the wood as he watched her intensely.

She shook her head at his audacity and went back to her bathroom to rinse out her mouth and put her tooth brush away. He watched her curiously.

“What are we doing?” She patted her mouth with a cloth towel as she retreated out of the bathroom.

“Just relieving some unresolved sexual tension,” he came forward, his eyes slowly trailing her body up and down. Heat rushed to her face. “I liked it when you practically shouted my name in the hallway earlier today. I want to hear your say it more. Louder.”

She gaped at his forwardness. “I don’t understand where this is coming from,” she stammered, backing away slowly.

“It’s been building for awhile now. And quite frankly I’m tried of ignoring it. I need some release. And I think you do too.”

The way he enunciated every single syllable so precisely drove her mad with desire. Her face flushed, her pupils dilated.

“Your pajamas are…cute,” he teased, looking her up and down. She was wearing pink and white flannel pants and matching top. “I think we should pick up where we left off earlier.” He reached for the buttons on her shirt and she didn’t stop him. Slowly he slid the top off, his calloused hands running down her shoulders and arms, as the flannel fell on the floor. She was bare underneath, her nipples hardened from exposure to the night air. And from the highly aroused state she was in. She tried to cover herself, but he held her hands down by her sides. She watched his eyes, feeling very vulnerable as he looked over her, his eyes slowly rising back up to meet hers. “Beautiful,” he whispered, reaching out to pull her towards him.

He kissed her just as deeply as he had earlier, his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. After a few minutes, she felt his hands slide inside her pants, down her butt, grabbing it and pulling her even closer to him. She let out a throaty sound, pulling away to look into his eyes again.

“Can we move to the bed?” His voice was low and shaky.

She nodded, backing up and deciding to be brave by pulling on his shirt as she fell backward onto her mattress. They moved back up, repositioning themselves so they could stretch across her bed. She ran her hands through his hair, finding it more silky than she realized. They made out for a few minutes, shifting every once and awhile and rubbing their bodies together before he sat back on his knees.

“Too many clothes,” he loosened the buttons of his collar and began rolling up his arm sleeves. She watched him, waiting to see what he’d do next. She caught a glimpse of his dark mark, which had faded a bit. He stopped, noticing how nervous she looked. “Can I take these off?” he tugged on her pajama pants and she nodded silently.

He pulled them off with a fluid motion and threw them on the floor with her top. He began rubbing her clit through her panties, staring at her face, memorizing her reactions.

“Please,” she begged as her clit hardened, pulsating.

“Remember what I said earlier. Use. Your. Words.”

She sighed, frustrated with him. “Pull my fucking knickers down and touch me,” she looked at him with a heated expression.

“Of course.” Two of his fingers were inside of her before she knew it. She bucked against them and moaned.

“Shhhhh,” he bid her. “Listen how wet you are. Can you hear it? Now, do you still doubt me when I say we have unresolved sexual tension?”

“Noooooo,” she groaned. She was clutching her bed sheets, her eyes squeezed shut. “Your body is amazing, Hermione.”

“Please,” she begged again.

“What do you want me to do?” He had an inkling what she wanted. He wanted to hear her say it.

“Kiss me.”

Still stroking inside of her with his index and middle finger, he kissed the inside of one of her thighs, oh so close to the heat of her sex. “You mean kiss you down here, right?”

 

* * *

 **A/N-** Finally! Chapter 18 begins immediately where this one left off. I’m such a tease ;) ;) ;) 

Have you all seen that music video he was in for the band Texas, song is called “In Demand”? Hot damn. If you haven’t, I posted it below. If you have seen it, watch it again. And again, and again, and again lol I got pregnant just from watching it, jk jk! My husband teases me about my crush on Rickman/Snape.

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4-gNN8WRHo>

_Go_ by Gracie & Rachel:

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpFRMDaA6Z4>

 

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and the kudos!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Smut/Lemons ahead! It is rated M after all. I promise it won’t all be smut in the future, we still have multiple plot lines/character arcs to get through!
> 
> Chapter 17 Ending:  
> “What do you want me to do?” He had an inkling what she wanted. He wanted to hear her say it.  
> “Kiss me.”  
> Still stroking inside of her with his index and middle finger, he kissed the inside of one of her thighs, oh so close to the heat of her sex. “You mean kiss you down here, right?”

****_You hold me like a woman, in a way I've never felt before  
And it makes me wanna be all yours  
Guys my age don't know how to treat me, don't know how to touch me, don't know how to love me good _ (Guys My Age by Hey Violet)

Snape’s feathery hair brushed against the inside of Hermione’s thighs, his tongue tentatively reaching out to touch her intimately, pulling away quickly, causing her to groan. The second time he pressed his tongue flat against her pulsating mound, curling the edges of his tongue and applying more pressure. This made her gasp and buck against his mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him into her, his nose burrowing into her soft flesh and feathery pubic hair. He began to alternate between placing sloppy wet kisses, strong strokes, and making figure eight motions with the tip of his tongue.

She couldn’t contain her moans. With a swift movement he lifted both her legs up and over his shoulders, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself to have better access to her. His mouth moved over her most intimate parts frantically, like a man who had been starving for years, finally tasting what he’d been missing this whole time.

The sound of his mouth moving against her wet flesh stimulated both of them all the more. Everything from his nose to his chin was soaked in her sticky arousal. She began to move her hips in sync with the movements of his tongue, the pressure inside of her building and building until…She quaked. And hard. Her moan turned into a shriek of pleasure as her legs shook, still draped across his shoulders. He pursed his lips around her clit, sucking lightly as she rode out her orgasm, still grinding against his face. She had thrown her head back, gripping the sheets underneath her.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured as she came down from her high, finally gaining control of her breathing. “How did you get so good at this? It’s like you know my body better than I do.”

He smirked, trailing kisses up her stomach to her breasts. “Instinct.” His mouth moved over one of her perky breasts, sucking softly for a minute, before moving to the other.

He sat up, wiping his face with his hand and looked at her with drowsy eyes. Her own eyes were heavy lidded now, her abdomen muscles still contracting from her powerful orgasm. She gave him a sleepy smile.

“That was…I’ve never had an orgasm like that,” she admitted, feeling enough abandon to reveal that.

“Good, I’m glad I can be of service.” He unrolled his sleeves and began buttoning his shirt back up his neck. She propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him, suddenly realizing that she was completely naked and he was completely dressed this whole time.

“Wait…are you leaving?”

He got up and picked up her pajamas and panties, handing them to her. “Yes, I have some more work I have to do tonight and it’s already late.”

“But…I don’t understand. Don’t you want me to at least return the favor?” _Did I do something wrong? Maybe he thinks I’m gross._

He could tell what she was thinking. “Tonight was about you,” he said in a gentle voice, trying to convey with his eyes that he had enjoyed their time immensely.

“What do you mean about me?” She was panicking now as she threw on her clothes.

“Hermione, stop, look at me.”

She met his eyes like she was expecting to be ridiculed.

“Next time you can return the favor. I would very much enjoy that.” He walked back over to her, stroking her face like he had when he first came in. “I liked pleasing you. I don’t think you’ve had someone who was willing to just focus on you and your needs without expecting something in return.”

His words caught her off guard, although his tone was his usual stern, reprimanding one. His eyes seemed to hold hers in a powerful trance.

“Plus, you need your sleep. You have a full day of classes tomorrow,” he smirked. “Goodnight Ms. Granger,” he turned to leave, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

* * *

Snape reflected on the last 24 hours as he sat in his office later that night, sipping Firewhisky. He was supposed to be going over first quarter stats from each House-grades, House points, detentions, behavior reports, and hospital visits-something he’d been putting off all weekend, but he couldn’t concentrate. His mind flickered back to Hermione’s face as he pleasured her and he threw his quill down and gave in to the distraction, rubbing his face with both hands.

He knew he was crazy for not letting her “return the favor,” as she so eloquently put it, but something inside of him prompted him to revise his plan when he stepped into her room. Oh he had been coming to relieve his own tension for sure, but as he began seducing her he found himself wanting to assure her that he wasn’t just greedily trying to take her. There was something more behind his actions, not just lust or sexual tension. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He’d had sex plenty of times, starting when he lost his virginity at the age of 18. But for some reason it felt unexpectedly different when he kissed Hermione. The whole first encounter in the Potions classroom had been a blur. From the moment he kissed her he could barely pry his hands or lips away from her. He felt like their bodies were magnets, pulled towards each other and nearly impossible to separate.

It was easy enough to be consumed by what was going on between them physically, rather than emotionally or psychologically. He knew it was only a matter of time before Hermione would want to talk about what was happening and put a label on it. He honestly wasn’t sure what he wanted. He didn’t want whatever was happening to create a lot of drama, but he knew sex rarely came without some kind of drama. He just couldn’t be sure what Hermione would want. A serious relationship? Something casual and slow, testing the waters? Maybe just recreational sex? He shook his head; he doubted she was one for recreational sex. He’d been involved with a couple of Muggle women who didn’t want anything more than sex and that had suited him just fine. But he knew that was rare.

Did he want something more than just casual sex? It unnerved him that he couldn’t just dismiss that thought. Dating Hermione Granger would make life all the more complicated and he had already had a complicated enough life. But a still, small voice in his head told him that maybe he’d find fulfillment with Hermione, an illusive concept he didn’t believe possible. He scoffed at the idea of fulfillment, at the idea that the rest of his life might settle down and turn out “normal”…whatever that was. He had thought and wanted to die, but somehow he was still alive, no thanks to the very woman herself.

And the mirror, that freaking Mirror of Erised, had confirmed what he didn’t want to admit; that the deepest part of him had grown attached to Hermione.

_But she certainly doesn’t need to know that._ He picked up his quill again. He couldn’t let her have that much power over him. By denying what he saw, what he felt, what he thought, maybe he could preserve himself and not fall prey to the vulnerability of love again.

* * *

The next morning Hermione splashed her face with cold water, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her legs were still trembling from the night before and she felt famished. _What the fuck happened last night?_ Snape had kissed her. Had stripped her. Had buried his face between her legs. _Who was this man? And what has he done with the Snape she’d always known? Was he really that sexually experienced or just naturally gifted?_ She paled as she continued to stare at herself in the mirror. It didn’t seem real, didn’t seem possible. And it had felt _so good_. She had definitely lost control of her senses pretty much the moment he kissed her. How was it that he went from scowling at her one minute to caressing her with his mouth the next? _He is the most confusing person to ever exist._

Still utterly shocked but noticing the time and not wanting to miss breakfast before classes began she dressed quickly and made her way into the Great Hall. Snape was still there, sitting in the Headmaster’s chair in the middle of the dais, smirking at her as she walked forward. She felt like she was wobbling and that everyone knew why. She struggled to maintain her composure as she walked forward, briefly locking eyes with Snape, who looked smugly satisfied, a dark look of lust just barely recognizable.

She took the seat next to him, choosing scrambled eggs and an orange to revive her energy.

“Good morning, Ms. Granger.”

“Good morning, Headmaster.”

“Indeed, ‘head…master,’ he said lowly, chuckling. Her fork clanked loudly against her plate as she dropped it accidentally, her mouth full of scrambled eggs, her cheeks flushing as she stared down at her plate. “You must have slept exceptionally well if you barely made it to breakfast on time.”

She swallowed slowly, trying to force herself to stop blushing before anyone took notice. “Indeed. Some of the best sleep I’ve had in years,” she answered truthfully.

He smirked. “Good.” Rising he paused behind her. “Have a good day, professor,” he purred. She inhaled the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering closed as her breathing slowed. She turned in her chair to bid him good day too but he was already gone.

* * *

It was Friday night and Hermione had duty, walking the halls, making sure the students were keeping out of trouble, and enforcing the curfew. Currently it was 11:30 and Hermione was walking alone at this point. Lourdes Magellan had gone outside to check the security wards. 

Hermione came around the corridor and locked eyes with Snape, who stood against the stone wall casually. For a moment she paused as they stared each other down. It was five days since he had come to her room. Other than mealtimes they hadn’t seen each other all week. But she had thought about him, entirely too much, she felt. The memory of his kisses, his hands on her body, his tongue was enough to arouse her and almost get her off on its own. She couldn’t deny it to herself, she craved his touch.

“Hello,” he said lowly, that silky smooth voice that made her heart thump.

“Hi,” she replied shyly. _When have I ever been shy around him?!_ But it was true, she felt incredibly shy in the moment.

He pushed himself away from the wall with his shoulder and walked to her slowly, his eyes boring into hers. “Do you have plans after your rounds are finished?”

She shook her head, not able to find her voice.

“Would you like to join me for a nightcap?”

She nodded, “yes,” she whispered.

“What was that?” He had heard her, but wanted to tease her.

“Yes,” she said more forcefully, finally finding her voice.

He leaned down like he was going to kiss her and she closed her eyes with anticipation. But no kiss came. Instead he just whispered “good,” his lips nearly grazing hers and then he was gone, striding away down the hallway the way she came. She trembled with anticipation as she finished her rounds, her stomach in knots. She really just needed to sit him down and talk to her about what was going on. Maybe he was hoping to talk over their nightcap? Dare she hope she’d get some answers? But part of her definitely _didn’t_ want to talk, hoping instead that he’d take her in his arms and kiss her just as fervently as the other night.

She knocked hesitantly on his office door 30 minutes later. He led her through the office to his living quarters and she took careful note of the Headmaster portraits, relieved to see that all of them were fast asleep. She gulped as he closed the door to his private rooms, taking in the dimly lit room. It was furnished much like his old rooms in the dungeons except all his furniture in this room looked brand new with dark mahogany wood and more classic paintings adorning the walls than he had previously. He seemed to have a deep appreciation for Renaissance art.

Her observation was interrupted when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her backwards as he leaned against the door. Slowly he brought one hand up to massage one of her breasts, nipping lightly on her earlobe, as the other hand descended down her abdomen and pelvic bone. His fingers slightly curled, maneuvering between her legs and feeling the warmth radiate through the clothed barrier of her knickers and pants. For a couple of minutes he rubbed circles in her nether region and made sure he massaged both breasts, humming in her ear as she moved her body against his. She shuddered. His erection was pressed into her lower back, just above her butt, the blood flow increasing every time she moved against him.

Suddenly he let go of her, for the shock effect. “How about that nightcap?”

She groaned, stumbling forward. He smirked, pouring a glass of Firewhisky. “I know you don’t prefer Firewhisky, what can I get you?”

She cocked an eye at him, trying to be just as smug as he. “Tequila.”

“Tequila?” Apparently he had not expected that answer.

“Yes. A shot of Tequila.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked him up and down with attitude.

“I do not have tequila, unfortunately. Is there anything else that will be an acceptable substitute and satisfy your fancy?”

The sexual euphemism of his words made her crack a smile, her stomach fluttering. “Did you really just want to have a nightcap, Severus?”

“That, among other things, I suppose.” He busied himself with a bottle of wine.

“Like? Come now, Severus, use your words,” she teased, her tongue pressed to the side of her cheek.

He handed her the glass of red wine. “Here I think you may enjoy this.”

Sipping it she found that she did indeed enjoy it as she swirled it around in her glass and sniffed it. She followed him to the sofa and he lit a fire.

“I believe you said you would return the favor, did you not?”

“I vaguely remember saying such a thing,” she continued to tease, sipping her wine.

“Well I very much look forward to that, then.” Before she realized, he had reached for her glass and removed it from her hands, moving towards her on the sofa. Their lips met and she could taste the whiskey on his lips and tongue. For awhile they just made out, caressing each other, still fully clothed, and enjoying a duel between their tongues, exploring each other’s mouths. Finally she broke away, looking back at him with a dazed look in her eyes.

“Do you want to move to the bed or…?”

“Wherever you would prefer,” his voice husky.

Her mouth quirked into sassy little smile as she unclasped his belt, falling to her knees on the floor, between his legs. She was careful with the zipper as she unleashed his erection from the constraints of his pants. She couldn’t help but take in his length and girth; both left nothing to be desired. She felt confident in her oral skills. She had gotten a lot of practice with Oliver, as it was something he regularly asked for. She licked her lips, teasingly, before putting her mouth around the tip. Instantly he groaned and sank down in his seat, his head leaning against the top of the sofa. He tasted like musk and salt and she much preferred it compared to a fragrant soapy smell and taste.

By the time she brought him to orgasm she found that he liked to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull lightly. He also liked it when she switched up her technique and didn’t mind that she couldn’t deep throat him for more than a couple of thrusts at a time. Lastly, she learned that his seed tasted sweeter than the previous men in her life. He had told her, barely able to get the words out, that she needn’t worry about letting him come in her mouth, that he was fine if she didn’t want to or if she wanted to spit it out. His consideration for her preferences made her smile as she moved her mouth back down over his shaft, humming with delight. She hadn’t ever really enjoyed giving a blow job before, but for some reason this time it was actually pleasurable and she had chosen to swallow, looking at him with sultry eyes as she did so.

Her knees hurt when she finally rose shakily. She definitely needed to shower after this; her panties were far from wearable at this point.

“I should go, I bid you farewell and goodnight,” she said dramatically as she bowed out of his room. She was trying to imitate his sudden departure from her room days before. He looked disoriented, adjusting and readjusting his pants as he tried to escort her to the door.

“Thank you, that was…most fulfilling.”

She laughed. “Please, you’re making me sound like a prostitute.” She paused and grew serious. “Will there be a next time?”

He pulled her into a kiss. “I would very much like that if you would.”

She nodded. “Ok, goodnight Severus.”

“Goodnight Hermione.”

* * *

McGonagall did indeed make a social call on Ginny about two weeks after she talked to Harry at the Quidditch game. Harry was gone, working an Auror shift as Ginny offered snicker doodles and tea to her former professor. McGonagall observed Ginny’s face, her colouring was pallid and her eyes look worn and tired. Ginny tried to smile and keep her voice light, but McGonagall saw the cracks in her pretense.

“How is your team doing this season? I never keep up with professional Quidditch very well, I must admit.”

Ginny’s right eye twitched ever so slightly. “The team is doing well.”

“And your stats? Remind me again what position you play.”

“Mmmhmm, um, Chaser.” Ginny’s face remained blank.

“Wonderful. I’m glad I was able to come see you this weekend. You must be traveling quite a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well with your team, of course.” McGonagall chuckled but Ginny just sighed and looked at her hands in her lap.

“I’m actually not playing anymore.”

“Pardon?”

“I quit the team. Before the season started.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for pestering you about it, then.” McGonagall was taken aback.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to know. I haven’t really told a lot of people,” Ginny shrugged, her voice lower than usual.

“Are you in the market for a career change? It happens to the best of us, you needn’t feel bad about that.”

“Yeah, I guess I was just tired of playing. Not really sure what I want to do next. Mum says I’m ‘finding myself,’” she laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness.

“Well that’s perfectly fine. You’re young and intelligent. Explore your options, take your time!” When Ginny only nodded and half smiled McGonagall continued. “What does Harry say?”

“Same thing as you and mum pretty much.”

“Well I’m sorry dear, I hope you don’t think I’m prying, I still have the instinct to check on and look out for my Gryffindors.” McGonagall ignored the fact that she was, indeed, trying to pry.

Ginny shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly.

McGonagall continued to study her closely. “I’m sure it was quite stressful to be separated from Harry during the epidemic.” Ginny noticeably stiffened, while her expression remained indecipherable.

“It was tough for everyone,” she answered carefully.

“Were you here by yourself? Or go with Ron or your mother?”

“No, I stayed here, much to mum’s chagrin. I just didn’t feel like being closed up with other people while I was busy worrying about Harry.”

“I see.”

The conversation waned slightly but Ginny finally tried to pull herself out of her funk and asked McGonagall about her recent travels. McGonagall chatted happily about visiting friends in Toronto, a weekend enjoying wine in California’s Napa Valley, visiting the Magical district of Beijing for the first time, and touring the Palace of Versailles. Finally McGonagall took her leave, as Ginny still seemed uncomfortable with the visit. McGonagall was just stepping out of the house when Harry apparated onto the doorstep, nearing colliding with the older woman. “Hello Harry.”  
“Minerva,” he grinned. “I’m glad you were able to come visit.”

“Yes, it was lovely to see your wife. I’m just heading to see Rosmerta now, I told her I’d be in Hogsmeade for the day and would stop by for a drink.”

“Excellent, well you two ladies have fun.”

“Oh, Harry, I know I’m prying and I really ought to stop but I just want to be sure, is everything alright with Ginny?”

Harry’s face grew solemn, but he nodded resolutely. “Everything will be alright.” He smiled, but McGonagall saw pain in his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel unsettled for the next couple of days, worrying about the young couple.

* * *

“We should do something to keep up student morale,” Hermione announced one day in early October during a staff meeting.

“Like?” Snape drawled, looking like he detested the idea.

“I was thinking a huge Halloween bash, bigger than just the usual dinner festivities. Something on the scale of the Yule Ball.”

When Snape began to grimace Hermione rushed to continue. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be a formal dance, just some kind of party like that.”

“Oh that would be delightful!” Keighly clapped his hands together. “I second that idea!”

“I third it,” Harry chimed in, “we could all use a little light hearted fun around here.”

Snape rolled his eyes but gave in since Halloween fell on a Saturday that particular year. They decided to have a costume party with different carnival type booths and games, a dance, and ghost stories around a bonfire. Hermione and Keighly elected themselves to plan the whole event, both incredibly ecstatic.

There were diagrams and schedules to show where all the events and booths would be set up. Keighly had worked his flirtatious charm to get several Hogsmeade storeowners to donate prizes for the winner’s of the carnival games. Hermione wrote out a list of rules and costume restrictions-no Death Eaters imitations; boobs, butts, and stomachs needed to be covered at all times; if you dress as one of the professors or ghosts be prepared for retaliation-and began plastering them all over the castle the week before the event, trying to reassure Snape that order would be enforced. She recruited Rosmerta, Molly, Andromeda, Madam Malkin, and Desdemona Butler from the quirky little shop Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade to make costumes; and Lavender and Parvati to do hair and makeup, commissioning them with funds Snape had allowed her to have after a significant amount of begging on her part.

Hagrid was in charge of preparing a fire pit near his hut and Caspian Belshazzar, the Ancient Runes professor and now Head of Slytherin House, readily agreed to tell a ghost story. He looked mischievously evil as he tapped his fingertips together wondering aloud which story he should choose.

The month of October was a flurry of excitement for the staff and students alike; and for Hermione and Snape, a flurry of their own, secretive excitement.

* * *

“I want you, in my bed, tonight.” He growled lowly, as he came up to her while she monitored the study hall hour in the Great Hall.

“Wow, how blunt of you,” she blushed.

“That’s blunt?” He bent his head to whisper in her ear. “I want your legs wrapped around my head and you crying out in ecstasy so loud that a newer, stronger silencing charm has to be invented. After that I want our bodies to move so vigorously that the bed creaks with each movement. I want it to sound like it’s going to fall apart at any minute. I want to kiss every single inch of you and I want you to be sore the next day. Do you understand?”

Hermione gripped the table in front of her, holding her breath. She stared forward, at the students, hoping she could maintain a calm façade when inside she was burning with desire.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Good. It’s 4 o’clock now. Study session is over. I’ll see you at 9.”

Her vision blurred momentarily before she was able to fully collect herself.

“Study hall is over. You may collect your things and return to your dorms before dinner,” she announced, her voice only slightly wavering.

She couldn’t seem to make it back to her room fast enough, practically jogging, hoping none of the students or other faculty members would deter her. His words left her shaking and out of breath. She skipped dinner, instead munching on some fruit she kept in her room and spending time meticulously bathing, grooming herself, and taming her wild hair. She grew more nervous by the minute. It was Snape, after all. _How did this happen and what the hell is going on?_ She seemed to lose all logic and cognitive skills around him; she had questions about the nature of their relationship that she’d immediately forget in his presence. He turned her into a mess of nerves, a tangle of sensations, and she _liked_ it. But she knew they needed to talk _soon._

It was raining by the time she flooed into his room. He was standing the window, watching the droplets hit the glass even though it was dark outside.

“You weren’t at dinner,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to have time to bathe and just be alone for awhile.”

He turned his head, looking at her with an expression that she had only seen him wear once or twice before. It was the same look he gave her when they discovered their cure for the Dragon Pox-Measles had finally worked. He had looked like this right before they almost kissed the first time. It wasn’t filled with lust, it wasn’t smug, sarcastic, or bitter. It was something else-a deep, forlorn look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite comprehend. She walked over to stand next to him by the window.

“I love rain,” she said. “The sound of it against a window or pavement, the smell of it.”

“Me too,” he agreed, his voice still quiet. He stepped towards her and curled a stand of her hair around his finger. She was shocked by the affectionate gesture. When he kissed her it was a deep, slow kiss. His hand trailed her jaw, his other arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. Maneuvering her, he pushed her gently against the window, she could feel the cold glass through her blouse. Cupping his hands around her jaw he explored her mouth, his tongue strong and thorough. He tasted like fresh mint leaves, something she found both calming and intoxicating. The rain pattered against the glass as her body tingled from his touch.

Finally he grabbed her hands and moved her into the bedroom. They took their time undressing each other. He’d never fully been undressed in front of her and she could tell he was nervous. He watched her face closely as she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, much like he’d done to her that first night in her room. Her hands were warm against his skin and he found her soft touch soothing.

Her eyes fell on his dark mark, resting there longer than he liked. Reaching for his hand, she pulled the arm up and continued to examine the faded mark on his arm, the ever present reminder of his violent and bitter history. He had always remembered to hide it with a glamour when he’d been with Muggle women in the past, except once and then he had explained it away as a badly done tattoo, which the Muggle woman had accepted as a decent explanation. He had briefly considered a glamour before Hermione arrived, but knew there was no fooling her and that she’d bring it up anyway. He’d rather her just see it than ask about it.

To his surprise she ran her thumb over it lightly, causing him to stiffen and wince. It didn’t actually hurt, no, but the act caused mental anguish, a knee-jerk reaction. No one except Voldemort had ever touched it before. She stopped immediately when she felt him stiffen. Looking up into his eyes she had tears in her own.

“Will it ever fully go away?” Her voice was low and husky with emotion.

“I don’t anticipate that it will ever fully diminish. But it has faded. I don’t deserve to have it fade.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I need to remember. It’s important.”

“You don’t have to continue punishing yourself.”

“No, but remembering doesn’t have to constitute punishment.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you still feel like you should be punished for your past, though?”

He sighed and lowered his arm. “I willingly chose to become a Death Eater. There’s no denying that. Did I make up for most of my sins by acting as Dumbledore’s spy and protecting Harry? Probably. But penance is a long road and rightly so.”

He put a finger to her lips to quiet her when she tried to talk again and resumed the process of undressing. Moving her towards the bed, they both stretched out, their bare legs tangling as her arms wrapped around his neck, their lips meeting once again. She felt the irregular and uneven texture of the skin on his back, moving her hands across his scars, years of punishments as a Death Eater.

He went down on her again and brought her just to the edge of her orgasm before he pulled away and looked down at her, again with that same deep, penetrating look. She squirmed, not liking so much attention as she lay naked, open to his full gaze. He bent to kiss her and she could taste herself on his lips. Positioning himself he pulled back, his eyes asking for permission.

“Please,” she begged, pulling his head back down to hers. He entered slowly.

They could hear the rain continuing to tap against the window as their bodies moved together, picking up speed and then deescalating before either one of them climaxed. At one point she wrapped her legs around his, pulling him tighter, causing him to groan. Finally he began moving his hips in a circular motion instead of merely thrusting. The sensation drove her wild and she began to moan and bite her hand. His legs finally stiffened and he pulled out, spilling his seed along the inside of her leg.

He pushed off of her and moved back down her body, placing light kissed around her pelvic bone.

“What?” she gasped, trying to raise her head off the pillow, but to no avail, it felt like it was made of lead.

“You haven’t finished yet.” She felt him wiping away his semen from her leg with the bed sheet and then she felt two of his finger slip inside her, his thumb finding her clit. She came a couple of minutes later, squirming against his touch as he massaged both her most sensitive parts. He watched her with a dark expression in his eyes as she came, his fingers and thumb continuing to stroke and rub as she cried out in pleasure, arching her back.

Recovering she settled into his arms, wondering how soon it would be until he asked her to leave. He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy cuddling, but she’d been wrong about him before. He wrapped an arm around her and they spooned for awhile, half dosing and listening to the rain that still hit against the windows lightly.

Finally she shifted, deciding that she finally better broach the subject of the extent of their relationship while she had the chance. She turned and he withdrew his arm, but continued to keep his head near hers affectionately.

“Severus?” she couldn’t hide the timidity she felt.

“Mmmhmmm?” Hermione could tell through his tone that he already knew what she was going to ask.

“What is this? What are we doing?”

Snape turned on his back to stare at the ceiling, inhaling and exhaling deeply, while he gathered his thoughts. “I…am not sure,” he answered honestly, instead of trying to come up with something clever or avoid the topic altogether.

“It’s…overwhelming. And confusing. At least for me,” she looked at him, but he was still staring at the ceiling. She watched his chest rise and fall, the dark hair hiding some of his scars underneath. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. She could tell that he was nervous but he didn’t seem annoyed or upset at the topic so she decided to keep talking in an attempt to draw him out more. “You became one of my best friends before you left. Honestly,” she added at the end when he turned to look at her with a hint of surprise in his eyes. “And when you left I felt so…well let’s just say I didn’t handle it well. It was really hard, I really missed you. I missed talking to you and just having you around in general. I even missed your cynicism and sarcasm,” she laughed a bit as he rolled his eyes. “I…” she had a hard time formulating her thoughts and putting them into words. “What this is…it feels really intense, at least to me.”

“I agree,” he said quietly.

“This isn’t the same as with Oliver. I just want you to know that. This…it feels risky.”

He stiffened slightly, but she decided to continue, “I would like to see where this goes…to explore what it might be, if you are.”

She waited for his answer, agonizing as the silence weighed down on her. It felt like hours when it was only minutes before he responded.

“Can we take this slowly?”

She laughed, relief coursing through her body when he finally spoke. “I hardly call this slow. You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet!”

“Sure I have. I’ve bought you drinks at multiple establishments, went to a nightclub with your friends, attended a wedding with you. We’ve even shared a dance. And we’ve had numerous fights. Plus you stalking me at my house-“

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t trying to be a stalker in the traditional sense! How else was I supposed to get in contact with you?!” She slapped her hand down on the mattress in the open space between their bodies, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Still. I think we’ve fulfilled quite a few milestones already.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bulged. “Everything you just said proves _my_ point!”

“Well I was responding to your complaint about a lack of a date.”

She sighed dramatically but smiled at him. “Fine. You’ve successfully courted me. Sex was only logically the next step, even if it was an abrupt step. Like the kind you find in the middle of no where that makes you stumble and fall.”

“That is a terrible analogy, Granger. You just said we’ve been heading up steps…how could this one be in the middle of no where?”

“We’ve gone up, up, up on some stairs,” she held her hands up demonstrating their progression, “then we hit a plateau…then an abrupt, sudden step out of no where, aahhhhhh” she moved her hands as if they were tumbling and falling.

“That was one of the most ridiculous demonstrations I’ve ever seen. Is that how you are inside the classroom? It’s a miracle your students learn anything,” he teased, pushing his face to her ear and kissing it lightly.

“So you don’t see what I’m saying, in theory?”

“Not at all,” he smirked into her hair.

“There’s been nothing but amicable friendship and nervous tension between us since you came back. You have to admit that cornering me in my own classroom and suddenly kissing me was a bit unnerving.”

“Unnerving? So you’re complaining about it now? I didn’t hear any complaints then. In fact I think I had more than enough encouragement from you, need I remind you? Perhaps we can view the memory in the Pensieve.”

“Fine, it was bewildering. I think we can both agree with that term! Now tell me, Severus, what do you propose?”

“I propose that we continue to see each other but that we keep our wits about the situation.”

“And what does that mean, pray tell?”

“We both know I am a very damaged man. There’s no use in pretending that what we’ll have will be anything normal. I am twice your age, your boss, and still not completely accepted by your friends. I can only imagine what your parents would think-“

“They’re very open minded!”

“Maybe, but I am a hard bite to swallow-“

“You really mustn’t think so harshly of yourself-“

“Would you stop interrupting me? You asked me what I wanted so I’m telling you, stubborn girl.”

She clamped her mouth shut with a humpf, rolling her eyes.

“I make it a habit to never rush into things. I’m a cynical, bloody sarcastic git. I have a long list of faults. I want us to be realistic about the situation. We are friends. Somehow you are physically attracted to me, although I cannot begin to wrap my mind around such things. I find you intellectually stimulating for the most part-“

“For the most part?!” she cried out indignantly. “Oh gee, Severus, you sure have a way with women in bed. Your pillow talk skills are up to par!”

“Well, when you learn to question everything, even the things you read in a book and cram into that brain of yours, then I will consider you completely intellectually stimulating.”

“How could anyone ever live up to your high standards!” She began to roll out of bed, fuming, but he grabbed her and rolled her back to him as he pinned her body to the mattress with his. His eyes were fiery and playful and he brushed some of her hair away from her forehead.

“You are the most challenging woman I have ever met. Well, aside from one other, but you are far more my taste. And I mean both those things as compliments.” He bent to kiss her, trying to mollify her with his lips.

“Who is the other?”

“Who do you think? The only other Gryffindor woman to be as stubborn and nosy as you. Minerva McGonagall of course.”

This made Hermione smile. “I want to learn to think like you do,” she admitted. “You’re a much more independent thinker than I am.”

“You will.” His lips captured hers again and she relaxed underneath him.

The rain continued long into the night as Hermione and Snape alternated between kissing and talking for another hour. Finally she sat up, stretching.

“You don’t have to go,” he said quietly.

“I should though.”

He nodded and they both dressed. “Tonight was really amazing,” she reassured him. “I enjoyed it thoroughly.”

“As did I.”

* * *

The morning of Halloween Harry helped Hermione with some of the decorations in the Great Hall. He set up the booths while she charmed the room with ivy cascading down the walls, a foggy mist at one end of the room, making the windows look cracked, and the sound of a werewolf howling every so often.

Harry paused when she cast the last charm. “Wow, that sounds a lot like Lupin,” he said sadly.

“It probably is,” she confessed, looking at him with equally sad eyes. “The charm relies on any personal experience to help create it.”

Harry leaned against the wall and listened for another few minutes, his eyes forlorn. “I’m really excited we’re doing this. Ginny’s been a bit down lately. I think she’ll have fun tonight.”

“She has? She hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Yeah, I know. I think she’s just trying to be strong for everyone you know?”

“I feel bad, I haven’t really seen much of her lately I guess. I should try harder to make more time.”

“She’s actually been isolating herself more, so I know she isn’t upset with you about not trying. Whatever you do, just make it seem normal and casual. You know Ginny, she doesn’t like to be pampered or pitied.”

_And I’ve been a bit distracted,_ Hermione thought, hiding her smile, pretending to search inside a box. She and Snape had decided to keep their relationship quiet for now. She was relishing their secrecy and the time to get used to what was evolving without anyone else’s input. She wasn’t sure how they’d take it; mostly she wasn’t sure how _the guys_ would take it. Ginny and Luna would be more understanding and might even catch on if she and Snape weren’t careful.

Neville hobbled in carrying an armful of physical decorations and fabric. “Luna told me to bring these. They’re from her childhood.” He dropped them on the floor, looking over everything with his hands on his hips.

“Luna’s back right? She’s coming tonight?”

“Oh yes, she’s back! Just yesterday. And yeah, she’ll be here tonight. Wait until you see our costumes.” He grinned.

“Can’t wait,” Hermione grinned widely at Harry.

Hermione choked on her cream soda when Neville and Luna strolled into the Great Hall, arm in arm, hours later. Luna wore a long flashy blue and purple robe with gold tassels that hung off her shoulders, blue and white striped pants underneath the robe, and a long fake white beard that reached her naval. What was on her head was what caught everyone’s attention as she passed by. It seemed to be a blue jellyfish hat, the arms and tentacles dangling around her neck. The jellyfish looked entirely too real.

“Hello everyone,” she said cheerfully as she looked around at Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Keighly, who all tried not to gawk at her.

“It’s great to have you back, Luna. Who are you dressed as?” Harry asked cheerfully.

“You can’t tell? I’m Uric the Ravenclaw.”

“Who?”

“Ah yes, the famous medieval wizard,” Keighly added, winking at Hermione, Ginny, and Harry and rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet. “He apparently lived with 50 Augureys and that must be what you are dressed as, Neville.”

Neville was indeed dressed like a bird with dark green and black feathers that ruffled when he walked.

“Correct,” Luna smiled broadly. “I thought it the perfect costume for us.” Neville smiled sheepishly, although not much of his face could be seen in that costume.

“Right you are. You’re a former Ravenclaw yourself, I presume,” Keighly said. “You look fabulous.”

Keighly turned to Hermione, “Uric the Oddball was his nickname,” he said lowly so only Hermione could hear him before he walked away.

“Ok, so you’re a mermaid, Ginny. And Harry’s a Quidditch Player.”

“Yeah, uhh a famous one from the ’94 World Cup. Aidan Lynch. Seeker for Ireland.”

Luna smiled politely, but had nothing more to say on the subject.

“But who are you, Hermione?”

“Ohhh I’m a character from the Muggle world. I’m Princess Leia from the Star Wars movies.”

“Well your hair is fantastic,” Luna gushed, closely analyzing the cinnamon roll hair buns wig Hermione wore. “I must start wearing my hair like that.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“Excuse me Deputy Headmistress, but I believe you have some students panicking in the girls’ lavatory over some kind of glitter crisis.” Snape’s voice purred in Hermione’s ear, startling her as he snuck up from behind.

“Oh dear, I better go see, I’ll find you guys later, have fun!”

The night went relatively smoothly-after cleaning up the bathroom caked in glitter-with only a few accidents and detentions for misbehavior given out. The ghosts took full liberty roaming around and putting on short theatricals for the students. Peeves, thankfully, only pulled minor pranks and was seemingly on good behavior, surprising everyone except for Snape who kept a close eye on him throughout the evening. Hermione guessed Snape had issued strong warnings privately with the Poltergeist, knowing that magic could be used against him as a punishment. Mostly Peeves just seemed to be excited to participate in all the fanfare of the evening, periodically shouting “This is my favorite holiday!”

Booths with games lined one side of the Great Hall. Drinks and food on the other side while Hermione had charmed the ceiling to have a disco ball and colorful flashing lights for the dance floor in the middle. Out in the entrance corridor were more games and activities. Trelawney did palm readings, while Vector, Doone, and Keighly judged a pumpkin “carving” design contest, which Hermione had tried to get the students to actually carve their pumpkins, but caved when everyone protested that wands should be used to make the designs.

At 10 pm students participated in a costume showcase, walking up and down a platform Harry had charmed in the middle of the room. Afterwards everyone gathered in the viaduct courtyard and lit paper lanterns in memory of deceased loved ones, letting them go into the night sky as they stood in silence, remembering the lost. At a quarter to 11 Keighly, Harry, and Neville lit off fireworks, with only one near disaster as a stray firework misfired and almost lit the greenhouses on fire, landing just a few feet away. Snape quickly put the fire out with his wand, giving the three other professors a stern, reprimanding look as they cowered before him.

The bonfire at Hagrid’s began at 11, with Belshazzar’s deep voice booming into the night as he told stories of Baba Yaga. Students shrieked, some of the younger ones running back to castle, others listened intently, the flames dancing in their wide eyes as they hung onto every one of Belshazzar’s words, holding their breath.

Hermione glanced at Snape, the yellow light of the fire playfully casting shadows across his face. Sensing her gaze, his eyes found hers and he gave her a small smile as he stood with his hands behind his back, his stance alert and authoritative. She returned his smile, her own a sweet and tender expression. Ginny stood on the other side of the fire, Harry’s arm wrapped around her shoulders protectively. While the exchange was lost on Harry, who happened to be just as enraptured with Belshazzar’s story as the students, it wasn’t lost on Ginny. She immediately picked up on the new dynamic between the two, not necessarily knowing how intimate it was, but suspecting that Hermione and Snape had crossed the line of friendship recently.

_Curiouser and curiouser_ , Ginny thought as Belshazzar’s voice dropped to a whisper, “And still to this day Baba Yaga haunts forests, looking for children she can eat, for bones she can harvest for her collection.” A loud snap came from the Forbidden Forest and all the students scampered away, shrieking and gasping for air as they ran back to the castle. Keighly emerged from the forest, a smug look on his face.

“Nice,” Hermione said, laughing. “Now they’ll definitely follow the rule to stay out of the forest. Well done, Sebastian.” His and Belshazzar’s laughter rang out into the night as the faculty members followed the students back inside.

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning by the time all the students were settled in their dormitories and the worst of the mess had been cleaned up. Hermione followed Snape outdoors to reinforce the security wards and make sure there weren’t any stragglers. Snape prowled about, like a predator hunting his prey, scouring the grounds to look for “devious students.” When Hermione questioned him about said “devious students”, he turned to her with an eyebrow raised and merely said, “students with a penchant for outdoor, public sex.” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, realizing that with the fanfare of the evening that students sneaking away for sex was probably a high possibility. He turned again and laughed when he noticed her shocked look. “Come now, Granger, you didn’t assume that all these teenagers only had their heads buried inside books and not plastered to another’s face…or another part of the body, now did you?”

“Stop being crude,” she admonished him, looking around as if they were surrounded by listeners.

“Not crude, just the truth. Teenage sex at Hogwarts happens a lot. Tonight included.”

“Oh my g-“ She became distracted as his hand reached out and quickly pulled her to him, almost like they were performing a sexy tango. She bumped into his chest and he held her firmly against him, staring unabashedly into her eyes. This was the look she had craved when he had left. Vehement, mysterious, intense, and sultry. His eyes drifted from hers down to her lips and back up again.

“I believe the grounds are secure, do you agree?” He said after a minute of holding her tightly, completely still.

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Arm still wrapped around her he apparated them back to his rooms, impatient and lusty. His lips were on hers the moment they arrived and he slowly began walking her to the bed. She fell backwards when she felt the mattress hit the back of her knees and crawled back on her elbows. He crawled over her and his lips covered hers again. They pulled and tugged on each other’s clothes, both eager to be rid of them.

This second go around left the bed sheets looking like a wind storm had come through. They devoured each other, switching positions more than once. He started out on top, but she quickly indicated that they should flip positions. She picked up the pace as she rode him, bouncing and whimpering at her need as her arousal increased.

“Oh Hermione.” She looked down at him, surprised by how tender and gentle his voice sounded when her name escaped his lips. His eyes were closed, but she watched him, yearning to gage his feelings more accurately.

Finally he pulled himself up into a sitting position, kissing her deeply as she slowed her bouncing and began grinding instead. “Yes, let’s finish this way,” his voice cracked. He was as deep inside her as possible and it felt glorious. Holding her to his chest, their lips never parted as he came. Reaching down between them, he applied pressure the front of her pelvic bone since he wasn’t in the best position to slip any fingers in. With a kneading motion he knew he could stimulate her this way and it worked. She reached her own climax a few minutes later as he was still buried within her.

Finally they broke from their kiss and pressed their foreheads together, breathing deeply as she continued to sit in his lap. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wiping away a strand of her hair that stuck to her forehead. Their eyes met, both pairs filled with vulnerability, wonder, and emotions they didn’t want to express out loud. Something was transpiring between them that neither one of them fully understood or wanted to admit to yet.

**_I'm thinking it over, the way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame_ **   
**_I wanna lean on your shoulder, I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain_ **   
**_I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game..._ **   
**_I'm thinking it over, what if the way we started made it cursed from the start?_ **   
**_What if it only grows colder? Would you still wrap me up and say and tell me you think this is smart? ( Waiting Game by Banks)_ **

* * *

**Yes, Uric the Oddball (Ravenclaw) is canon :)**

***To my readers in Mexico, the Caribbean Islands, Texas, and Florida: My heart goes out to you, you’ve been hit really hard, some of you multiple times, by earthquakes & hurricanes. Love, prayers, & thoughts as you recover. Stay strong. <3**

**Updates will probably be slower from here on out. I’m in the throes of grading now. Love ya all!**

_Guys My Age:_  
<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LzWUAkpNrQ>

 

_Waiting Game:_  
<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCT_lgJ5eq8>


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer-Everything you recognize is belongs to JKR.
> 
> A/N #1-While other chapters have been the span of days, weeks, even months, this chapter occurs in just a single day. Thought I’d mix it up a bit ;)
> 
> A/N #2-Just a reminder that only Harry and a select few others (like Shacklebolt, Dumbledore) know about Snape’s past with Harry’s mum in this story. When Harry shared the memories, it was for a private audience for the purposes of getting him exonerated. Hermione doesn’t know about his past with Lily. Yet.

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered open, her gaze falling on a porcelain skinned, curvy woman, holding a rosy cheeked cherub from the reach of a muscular warrior, clad in furs around his groin. Birds pecked at the ground around their feet, a hunting dog alert at the warrior’s side.

Hermione stretched her legs and heard Snape’s breathing pattern change, indicating he’d woken up too. She laid on her side, her back to him, clutching the pillow under her head.

“Severus, what am I looking at?”

“Hmm?” she heard him hum as his lips grazed her shoulder. Her bare skin tingled at his touch, gooseflesh appearing even though she wasn’t cold.

“The oil painting over there. It’s the first thing I saw when I woke up, although I’m not complaining, it’s beautiful.” He had a few paintings hanging around the room, some she didn’t recognize and had been meaning to ask about.

“That,” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this time to her shoulder blade, brushing some of her curls aside, “is called Venus, Adonis and Cupid. Painted by Annibale Carracci in 1595. He was leading Italian painter, known for the Baroque style. Are you familiar with the myth of Venus and Adonis from Ovid’s _Metamorphosis_?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Do you see that puncture wound in the middle of Venus’ chest? Adonis was out hunting with his dog and struck Venus with his arrow. She is trying to protect her son, Cupid, from him. But as she sees Adonis approach she falls deeply infatuated with him and decides to follow him, leaving behind Olympus, because Adonis is a human, not a fellow god, though he was known to be as beautiful as a god. They lived together for awhile, however, Adonis was a risky man and fought a wild boar during a hunt. He was killed before she could rescue him. So she took his blood and made it into a flower so she could memorialize their love every year when it blooms.”

“How tragic.” It was clear from the look on both Venus’ and Adonis’ faces that it was love at first sight. It was a beautiful painting, although Hermione’s favorite of the goddess of love, beauty, and fertility was still The Birth of Venus. Her eyes shifted to the painting hanging next to Venus and Adonis.

“And the one next to it? It’s the Portrait of Antea, yes?”

“Indeed. In a dress of yellow silk.”

“What is that around her? An otter or weasel?” Hermione laughed in amusement.

“It’s actually a pine marten, but closely related to both those animals.”

Hermione turned to face him now, seeking his lips with her own.

“Did you know my Patronus is an otter?”

“I did not.”

“What’s your Patronus?”

“A panther,” he lied, rolling out of bed. He actually hadn’t cast a Patronus charm since the war but assumed it was still a doe. But that wasn’t exactly a topic he wanted to bring up with Hermione at the moment. “Do you want to have me to have House Elves bring breakfast here?”

“No, that’s ok.” She clutched the bed sheet to her bare chest as she pensively watched him move around the room, dressing. “Are you sure you don’t want me there for the interview?”

“I’m sure. I’m counting on my unpleasant demeanor to make it a brief encounter with Ms. Skeeter. She’s usually skiddish around me. No point in changing that now.”

“I’m surprised she doesn’t try to flirt with you.”

“Oh she has. Years ago. I, however, showed my fangs and now I believe she’s right terrified of me.”

Hermione giggled, stepping out of bed and beginning to dress as well.

“I’m sure she’ll be trying to gather more stuff for her biography on you. Make sure to give her something really juicy.”

Snape shot her an annoyed look. “Don’t remind me of that pending biography. I might fly into a fit of rage.”

Now dressed, Hermione came up to him, putting a hand to his chest and kissing him tenderly on the cheek. “Well I know you’re not looking forward to it, but I think it’s good to do an interview to show how the school has come back from last year, especially under your leadership. You’ve really done a lot to help this school successfully recover.” She kissed him again before grabbing a handful of floo powder from his fireplace mantle.

“You flatter me.”

“It’s the truth, Severus, whether you want to believe it or not. I’ll be out with Ginny today, but I’ll see you later.”

* * *

“Now you just remember that you’re along for the learning experience, dear. Let me do the questioning. Oh and remember not to be too intimidated by the professor.” Rita patted Pansy Nott’s cheek, giving her intern a sugary sweet, yet fake, smile. Pansy pulled away slightly, clearly not happy about Rita’s show of affection.

“I know, I’ll stay out of your way,” she said in her own cheery voice, when in reality she was just mocking Rita’s. “And you don’t need to remind me about Professor Snape. He was the head of my House and former professor. I’m not afraid of him,” she added the last part in an indignant tone.

Pansy followed a step behind Rita, mimicking Rita’s hurried, hip swaying, busy-body walk, not out of admiration but out of mockery. Both women were dressed to the nines, wearing tight knee length skirts-Pansy’s was a black pencil skirt, while Rita’s bright red one flared just around her knees-white frilly blouses, and blazers-Pansy’s blazer was emerald green that made her skin look even creamier than usual, while Rita’s blazer matched her red skirt and shade of lipstick.

“Honey, hurry up now,” Rita urged Pansy, the older journalist walking like she had to pee. Pansy smirked knowing Rita was exceptionally nervous to interview the headmaster, even if she was trying to put on a brave face. The idea for an interview at Hogwarts in the aftermath of the epidemic had actually been Pansy’s idea, but Rita was taking full credit for the idea. While that didn’t surprise Pansy at all, it still irritated her to no end.

“Severus Snape,” Rita called as she slowed her strut towards him holding her arms out, her multitude of gold bracelets clinking together with her arm movements. “The man, the legend, the _demi-god_.” Rita’s quill was already furiously scribbling as it floated next to her alongside the hovering notepad. He approached them, looking as brooding as ever, in the entry way.

“Please try to control your theatrics, Ms. Skeeter. Your charm will not get you extra time during this interview, nor more access to other faculty members or students.”

“Oh Severus, how can you say such a thing? I am only showing my admiration for you.”

“I neither need nor desire your admiration. Ms. Nott,” he nodded at Pansy.

Rita gave Pansy a dirty look. “She’s just my intern, you can ignore her.” She stepped in front of Pansy and smiled, batting her eyelashes at Snape. He merely rolled his eyes.

“Come,” he said stiffly, waving his arm to indicate they should follow him. They made their way to his office.

“What is it you want to know?” He asked abruptly after all three of them were seated.

“Oh Severus, this is just an informal, casual conversation. No need to feel so anxious with us here.”

“This is an interview, not a conversation.”

“Ohh,” Rita giggled like a school girl, wiggling in her chair as he glared at her. “Umm my throat is a bit dry, may I have some tea?”

Snape raised an eyebrow but kept still for a full minute. Pansy watched with wide eyes as Rita grew uncomfortable under his stare. Suddenly he flicked his wand and two tea cups flew from a side table towards Pansy and Rita. A second flick sent a teapot to fill each one as the women watched with interest.

“Thank you.” She took a sip. “Now where were we? Oh yes, Severus Snape _Savior_ to all-“

“Rita,” he said warningly while her Quick Quotes Quill danced along the notepad.

“What made you come back from retirement? What led you to come back to us in our time of need? Our final hour?” Rita peered out over the top of her glasses at him.

“News of the epidemic brought me back out of retirement, of course.”

“Could you not trust Hermione Granger to work out the solution herself?”

Pansy lowered her head and stifled a giggle at Rita’s question.

He sighed. “I was led to believe this interview was about the recovery of the school and not the epidemic itself.”

“Right you are.” Rita moved on to her other questions.

Snape gave as many monosyllabic answers as he could; only offering up the most concise, lack of detail answers the rest of the time. She asked about the success of the extended school year, new faculty hires, and the Halloween festival. Finally somewhat satisfied, Rita stood, adjusting her skirt. 

Pansy watched the headmaster and Rita descend the stairs of his office, waiting until they had a bit of a head start. Then she loosened the strap of her shoe and began descending quickly. Her plan worked, she began to lose her balance and as she picked up speed she collided into Snape's back as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She reached out to both grab him and steady herself.

"Ow!" He complained, feeling a sharp tug at his hair in the back as Pansy practically slammed into him.

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry Professor! My shoe tripped me up and I stumbled." She gave him her best innocent eyes and moved her foot to show her loose strap. Snape just grunted and turned to face Rita again as she glared at Pansy. 

"Well Severus, I thank you for your time, I'm sure you're a very busy man. Apparently I need to get Pansy out of here before she causes anymore bodily harm." Rita held out her hand like she expected Snape to kiss it. He left her wanting and instead just stared at it with disgust.

“Goodbye Ms. Nott, Ms. Skeeter. I hardly look forward to reading the exaggerations, dramatizations, and half-truths you plan to put in the article. That quote is on record, by the way.”

* * *

“Whoa, look over there!” seven-year-old Teddy alternated between hopping and skipping with anticipation, pointing at a nearby booth.

“You want to get your face painted?” Ron’s eyes danced with merriment as he watched the little boy take in the pre-game fanfare of the Appleby Arrows and Chudley Cannons Quidditch game.

“Yeah!” he cried out enthusiastically.

“Aye mate, what’s yer name?” A bearded fellow with a pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth greeted Teddy as he stepped up to the chair in the booth.

“Teddy Lupin.”

“And I’m presumin’ yeh want the colours of yer team on yer face, ya?”

Teddy nodded jovially.

“Go on, Teddy, tell him what team your reppin’” Ron encouraged.

“Chudley Cannons, sir.”

The face painter turned and gave Ron a stank eye. “Does the young lad know that their motto is ‘let’s cross our fingers and hope for the best’?”

Ron laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so, but let’s not burst his bubble quite yet. They were actually my favorite team growing up, still got all the memorabilia too.”

The gruff looking man turned to face Teddy again who sat looking at him expectantly, his feet swinging back and forth as they dangled from the chair, oblivious to the conversation the adults were having.

“If yeh don’t mind me askin’ little sir, why is the Chudley Cannons yer team?”

“I was in Diagon Alley with mum and I saw all the team jerseys at a store. I asked mum what team this one is because I like the colors and I like the cannon ball. And when she said ‘Chudley Cannons’ it made me laugh.” Teddy ended his story with a grin, missing two bottom teeth and a side canine tooth.

“Aye, fair enough,” the face painter turned to wink at Ron, “bright orange it is then, lad.”

“Last year Mr. Weasley and his sister, my Auntie Ginny, took me to a game, but the Chudley Cannons weren’t playing so I had to cheer for…who did I cheer for?” Teddy addressed Ron, his face pensive as he tried to remember for himself.

“The Wimbourne Wasps,” Ron reminded him.

After the face painting the pre-game crowd had swelled, so Ron bid Teddy to hold his hand since the young boy was a ball of energy who tended to sprint off without a warning. Ron and Teddy had just found their seats, their arms full of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, cotton candy, hot dogs, and chocoballs, as the referee threw the Quaffle into the air. Teddy and Ron exchanged high fives and cheered along with the crowd throughout the game, both getting caught up in the swell of the crowd excitement. Teddy kept looking up at Ron for social cues on how to react during the game, which gave Ron a weird, aching sensation in his heart, something he didn’t quite understand. All he knew for sure was that this was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Years, actually. Not that he hadn’t been happy, but there was just something different about this particular day, sharing this experience with Teddy, feeling like he was bonding with the boy, that was so much more fulfilling than the women he dated, the hobbies he pursued, the food he ate, or even his job. 

“Here, look Teddy, watch this play again by Mulligan, the Cannons keeper. See how he holds just one hand and one foot on his broomstick and stretches out to protect the goal from the Quaffle? Perfect form, that’s really hard to do” Ron held his omnioculars to Teddy’s face so he could watch the last play in slow motion.

“Whoa cool!” the little boy shouted, his face flushed.

When Ron began shouting at the referee about a bad call on a foul, Teddy jumped up on his seat and also began shouting, repeating most of what Ron said although not really understanding the situation very well. Teddy scrunched up his face to show his anger and shook his fist in the air.

“Damn that call! It’s bloody uncalled for, ya lunatic!” Ron shouted angrily.

“Yeah, damn that bloody call, ya lunatic!” Teddy echoed, his young and innocent voice juxtaposing the words that came out of his mouth.

“No, no no no!” Ron pulled Teddy’s hands down from where he had cupped them around his mouth. “Don’t say those words. They weren’t nice, they weren’t good. I shouldn’t have said them and you shouldn’t repeat them.” He put his arm around Teddy’s shoulders. “Oh Teddy, I’m not a very good example for you,” he murmured, more to himself than to Teddy. From that point on he carefully checked himself every time he felt like shouting something.

Tonks spotted Ron carrying her son as he walked up the path to 12 Grimmauld Place. She opened the door and crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow at Ron.

“He’s in a bit of a sugar coma, I think.” Ron smiled proudly at this announcement.

“Merlin, Ron, I sure hope he doesn’t wake up and puke all over the place,” Tonks said giving Ron an exasperated look as she moved out of the way to let him pass.

Ron just gave her a cheeky grin. “What’s a sugar coma without the puking though?”

Tonks rolled her eyes, laughing. “Here bring in him the sitting room on the sofa so I can monitor him. I just got home from work and am going through the mail.” She watched as Ron laid the boy down, gently, and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa to cover him. Ron stared down at Teddy, fondly for another moment, before glancing back at her.

“Thanks for letting me take him out again. It’s been loads of fun. Hope you don’t mind he got his face painted and I bought him a Chudley Cannons flag and jersey.” He set those items down on the table.

“Oh you spoiled him!” Tonks tried to give him a reprimanding look but couldn’t hold back her smile. “But really, you’re going to make a great dad someday. Just as long as you have a strong, disciplinarian wife at your side.”

Ron blushed, even the skin on his neck grew rosy as he lowered his eyes sheepishly. Rubbing the back of his neck he looked back at Teddy. “Well I ought to get going. I told mum, George, and Angelina I’d come over for dinner tonight. I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

“Yup. I’ll be in later in the afternoon for the night shift, but I’ll see you before you get off.”

“Great, thanks again.”

“No, thank you, really Ron. This time to bond with an older male is really important for him, especially the older he gets. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Harry in his life. So thank you.”

Ron walked down the front path smiling, his hands buried in his pockets. Maybe he’d have his own brood of children someday.

* * *

“I think I’m going to host Christmas at my cottage this year,” Hermione announced casually as she and Ginny wandered through Diagon Alley, a bag from Flourish and Blotts in Hermione’s hand. Ginny held a carton of caramel corn, munching on the sweet snack.

“Oh yeah?” Ginny’s eyes scanned across the shops in front of them as she popped another piece of caramel corn into her mouth.

“Yeah. The guest list is a little long, I may have to add an extension charm to my house, make the living room larger or something. It’s a bit tricky to do but I already practiced it last week.”

“Well that’s neat. Who all are you planning on inviting?”

“My parents, of course. You, Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna. I was thinking Minerva. And your mum if she wants to come. Tonks and Teddy. I’m assuming she’ll bring her mum around. And Severus.” Hermione tried to gauge Ginny’s reaction out of the corner of her eyes, but Ginny remained impassive.

“So how have things been with Snape? Severus, sorry. It’s weird to call him anything other than Snape or professor.”

“Well…” Hermione wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share. And she didn’t think Snape really wanted anyone to know yet, at least not for now. “We’re on better terms,” she continued, choosing her words carefully. “We have a good working relationship.”

“Does he know how you feel about him?”

Hermione wanted to take the moment to distract her friend by finding something amusing in a shop window to point at, but knew it wouldn’t work. “Umm…” Hermione bit her lower lip.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“No! Don’t take that as a yes,” Hermione cried out frantically.

“Hermione, I saw how you two interacted at the Halloween festival. _Something_ seems different with the two of you.”

“What?! No, you’re wrong!”

“So he feels the same way?” Ginny continued to fish for information.

“Oh my god, Ginny, can we just drop it?”

“Why are you acting so defensive? I just want to see you happy and you’ve been really happy for the last few months. So whatever is going on, I’m glad it’s happening.”

Hermione couldn’t resist any longer. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. I mean anyone! Not even Harry! Please! I know marriage bonds you but this is very personal and…and…he’ll probably find out at some point anyway, but I’m just not ready yet for everyone to know, ok?”

“I promise.”

Hermione gripped Ginny’s arm and pulled her to a secluded area with a bench.

“So…we’re…together.”

“ _Together_ together?

“ _Together._ ”

Ginny leaned back against the bench. “Oh wow. Ok…alright. This is…good. You’re happy, he’s happy.”

“Are you weirded out?” Hermione winced.

“Well…not really considering we’ve talked about how you felt at least. And I was picking up on hints of it when you first began to bring him around.”

“Really?”

“Hermione, c’mon. That night you sang karaoke in the bar? A Beyonce love song? You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.”

Hermione blushed. “Did he notice?”

“Yeah, he did,” Ginny gave her a pointed look. “But hey, look where it’s gotten you now! So, how long have you been…romantically involved?”

“A little over a month, so not too long, which is why I wasn’t going to break the news yet.”

“Got it. My lips are sealed. Has it been weird at all though? I mean with the age difference, as your former professor, the fact that you almost died together.”

“Honestly it’s felt pretty natural. He’s complicated, that’s for sure. I doubt that’s ever going to change. Do you think the guys are going to freak out?”

Ginny knew they probably wouldn’t take it super well. They’d already been freaked out when Hermione started bringing Snape around the group just as friends. Ginny also wondered if her brother had had a crush on Hermione all these years, even though he’d never said anything about it. And Ginny wasn’t sure just how much Hermione knew about Snape’s past with Harry’s mum. Harry had kept the info pretty quiet, partially out of respect for the professor and partially because Harry had struggled with the secret, knowing how much his own father tormented Snape and how Snape had both loved and deeply hurt his mother. Ginny knew this news would affect Harry because of that, but she didn’t want to say anything to Hermione about it, it wasn’t her place to reveal these secrets. So she needed to choose her words carefully.

“Well…they’ll probably think you’re daft. He’s changed, yes, but we all still remember what he was like as our teacher. Neville might possibly pass out hearing the news,” Ginny laughed, but Hermione only gave her friend a half smile, her eyes desperate for more analysis. “Ron will probably be super protective and suspicious. He’ll be very vocal about his disapproval and distrust, no doubt. Harry…Harry will probably be confused about it.”

Hermione sighed, looking at her hands in her lap. “I figured as much.”

“Do you know much about Snape’s past? Like his childhood or years at Hogwarts?”

Hermione furrowed her brow, her mouth twitching. “Not a lot actually. Why?”

“I just wonder what influenced him to be the way he is. He was,” Ginny corrected herself quickly.

“You mean, other than his Death Eater past? And then working as a spy?”

“Yeah, there’s gotta be more to it than that. What made him become a Death Eater in the first place? Why did he switch sides and become Dumbledore’s spy?” Ginny aimed to inspire Hermione to finding these answers out for herself, knowing that it would lead to important and much needed conversations with Snape in the future.

Hermione returned to the castle a little while later realizing that she’d been so distracted by talking about Snape that she’d forgotten to ask Ginny how she was _really_ doing, only throwing out the casual “how are you?” when they first met up. Hermione knew Ginny was still trying to figure out what she wanted to do next since she’d quit Quidditch, but beyond that, Hermione wasn’t really up to date with anything else in Ginny’s life. _Damn you, Hermione, for being so selfish and only talking about yourself,_ she chastised herself. She remembered just a couple of weeks ago when Harry divulged that Ginny “had been down” recently. And while Ginny did look more her old self as of late, Hermione knew that her friend was good at putting on a mask to hide her feelings. She vowed to devote more attention to her friend next time they hung out.

* * *

Hermione showered, scrubbing herself down until she felt like all the various smells of Diagon Alley, both good and bad, were sufficiently gone. She applied an instant drying charm on her hair and a light layer of lip gloss on her lips, before reaching for her contraception. She measured the vial dropper and swallowed the dosage. She made a mental note to get more birth control soon. Slipping into a light lilac satin nightgown, a robe, and house slippers, she flooed to Snape’s room.

“Hi, how’d the interview go?” She shuffled out from the fireplace, scuffing her house slippers along the flagstone.

Snape grunted as he pointed his wand at some candles on the white clothed table, dessert plates and wine waiting to be devoured. Fire sparked on the candle wicks and Hermione surveyed the cheesecake the House Elves must have delivered. She’d missed dinner at the castle, instead grabbing a quick bowl of soup with Ginny before heading back to Hogwarts.

He looked at Hermione from across the room, strands of his hair falling over one eye. “A dessert date, my lady?” He said, smirking.

“It smells heavenly.”

He moved around to pull out a chair for her.

“Why thank you, good sir.” She laughed, picking up her fork and sinking it into the slice of cheesecake.

He watched her with a dark look as she took her first bite, moaning with delight at the rich flavor and slowly removing the fork from her mouth. She winked at him. They mostly ate in silence before retiring to the bed.

She laid between his legs, her back against his abdomen, her head against his chest for awhile, both letting their food digest a bit more before trying to engage in any physical activities. Both of them had a book in their hands; his was _Crime and Punishment_ by Fyodor Dostoevsky of which she had picked up for him at Flourish and Blotts earlier that day; she was reading _Little Women_ by Louisa May Alcott, a book long overdue on her to-read list.

Finally he sighed and slid his bookmark between the pages, closing the thick book with a soft thud.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It resonates deeply with me.” In fact, he found that the character Raskolnikov was all too familiar to him, and while it wasn’t a lie that he did enjoy the book, some of the themes and characterizations hit so close to home it made him a bit uncomfortable. “Have you read it?”

“No I haven’t,” she marked her place and closed _Little Women_ , laying it on top of his book on the nightstand. “I’ll read it when you finish.”

“What made you choose this one for me?”

“A few reasons. One, because it’s a classic. I know it’s rife with social commentary and the struggle with one’s inner psyche, which I though you’d appreciate. And because I haven’t seen it on your bookshelf, so I was quite proud of myself for getting you something you didn’t already have.” She smiled triumphantly, sitting up straight.

“Well I commend you for your choice, my fellow bookworm.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss.

He moved her hair to the side, lightly caressing her neck. Hermione didn’t seem to understand just why he was staring intently at her neck until she realized that he was running his fingers over her scar from Nagini’s attack. Reaching up she touched the fang marks that scarred his own skin, her eyes meeting his.

“I’m glad I came to find you that day,” she spoke earnestly.

His heart contracted, but he didn’t dare speak. Instead he pulled her in for another kiss, trying to convey through his lips what he felt, what he couldn’t express through words. _Is it that you can’t or that you won’t say how you feel out loud?_ His thoughts prodded him. He nudged that thought away. Now was _not_ the time for deep contemplation on his emotional state. 

Their love making ritual had grown even more intimate and familiar in the last few weeks since they began this new stage of their relationship. Both of them became accustomed to making foreplay last as long as possible, knowing what excited the other, and intertwining their fingers as they clasped their hands together during intercourse. Their default position became the classic missionary style, although now that they were beginning to grow more comfortable Snape was hoping to get more adventurous.

They were currently in this position, their bodies sliding together, slick with sweat, just like in his dreams. She seemed agitated and kept trying to move her hips to get a better angle for herself. Finally he stopped moving and patted her right butt cheek.

“Turn over and get on your hands and knees,” he commanded gently, a bit out of breath. His black hair stuck to areas of his neck and forehead. He pulled out of her.

“What? No. Isn’t that degrading to women?” She winced, but followed his command when he patted her again.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he purred in her right ear as he repositioned himself to continue from behind, rubbing his member up and down her wet flesh. He maked slow circles over her clit as some of his precum seeped out, mixing with her own fluid. Hermione arched her back and groaned loudly, clearly finding enjoyment in this new position. Snape smirked with pride.

When he slipped back into her she was practically screaming with frenzied desire. “Oh fuck. Fuck, Severus! Fucking hell!”

He held her hips in place as his body slapped against hers. He was doing everything he could to delay his orgasm. This was pure bliss. Reaching down his slipped his right arm around her front side, between her legs, his middle finger moving in between the front of the soft public hair and skin. He moved the finger around, not being able to see what was going on, until he found her sensitive spot. It took deep concentration on his part to continue his thrusting movements while circling and massaging her, trying to remember to breathe. Luckily for him, her impending orgasm helped as she moved against him frantically.

“Yes, fuck me, harder, Severus, harder! Yes, please, oh you feel so good. Oh geeze.”

He growled as his seed filled her. Just as his orgasm was ending the muscles of her wet walls clamped down and squeezed tightly, strangling his cock, albeit in the most pleasant way. When her walls finally released him, he pulled out slowly and she collapsed on her stomach, moaning.

“I told you I’d make it worth your while,” he snickered.

“That you did. Fuck that was intense.”

“You sure have a dirty mouth.” He pressed a kiss to her lower back, chuckling.

“At least I have manners and say please,” she cooed back, smiling into the pillow.

“Do you have any sexual fantasies?” Snape asked, his eyes filled with curiosity as he sank back down onto the bed next to her.

“All the sex I’ve had has been pretty vanilla,” she confessed, still laying on her stomach.

“Really? So nothing you’ve day dreamed about doing? Positions you’ve wanted to try or scenarios?”

She laughed. “I can’t really think of anything at the moment. My brain is a bit fuzzy after that.” She curled up against him and they rested for awhile, breathing deeply.

“I don’t know anything about your childhood. Will you tell me something about it?”

She caught the look of disdain in his eyes that he quickly tried to neutralize.

“What do you want to know?” he asked stiffly.

“Anything. Everything.”

“I do not enjoy talking about my past.”

“Ok,” her voice meek and sad.

The quiet stillness of the room seemed to be deafening to the both of them. A few minutes slipped by and finally Snape cleared his throat.

“You’ve seen my childhood home. Spinner’s End. My father worked at a nearby factory. My mother did odds and ends jobs, like sewing or cleaning other people’s houses. We were a working class family. My mother was a witch, my father a muggle. He didn’t like when we practiced magic. He could barely tolerate me once my magic began showing. He also drank. Too much and too often. He wanted me raised as a muggle, but by the time I was 11 he was ready to send me away and didn’t argue when my mother plead her case. When I would come home in the summers he was most unpleasant.”

Hermione gaped at him. “Did he ever hurt you guys?”

“He hit me once. I witnessed him hit my mom a few times, I suspect he hit her even more, but she never said anything. He had a temper. He’d throw or push over furniture, break things, yell a lot. That kind of behavior from him was normal. It was not a good home life. I usually spent my days at a park, away from home, away from him.”

“Oh Severus, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, you had nothing to do with it, nor did you know.”

“Are your parents still alive? Do you have any kind of relationship with them now?”

“They are both dead,” he responded his voice and face devoid of any emotion. “My mother committed suicide when I was 17. She just couldn’t deal with my father’s abuse anymore. Even if the physical violence was limited, he was not a nice person. She endured profuse emotional and verbal abuse. He didn’t even tell me when she died. I was away at school. I found out when I came home that summer. I came in, begrudgingly because I didn’t like coming home, and he was drunk in his armchair, staring at the television. He blurted out that my mother had died, he didn’t even look at me, just kept his eyes on that damn television. I left immediately. I _hated_ him. I thought about killing him…He died a few years later. A heart attack, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, between his anger issues and drinking.”

Hermione had tears in her eyes now. “Oh Severus,” she sniffed. “Do you know how they met? Why she married him in the first place? Did he not know she was a witch before they got married?”

“I don’t know much about my mother’s parents. The little I do know was that they were pure-bloods who died when my mother was in her early 20s. They were older than most parents, she was an only child, and I guess they had a hard time conceiving. My mother once mused that she wondered if they used magic to finally conceive successfully. She didn’t mean to say this out loud, she was horrified that I had heard this theory of hers. I was maybe nine or ten, it was before I started at Hogwarts.”

“Anyway, she met my father right around the same time they died. My mother was shy, a bit withdrawn from others. I believe she had some friends at Hogwarts. She was captain and president of the Gobstones Team and Club and she always seemed excited for me to attend Hogwarts. But I think after she graduated she became reclusive. And for some reason curious about the muggle world. I believe that my father was the first person she met in the muggle world. I know it was in a bar. I imagine that she just wandered into one. My father had probably always been a difficult person to be around, so I can’t imagine him having many friends or girlfriends. He was probably just happy that someone was showing him so much attention. I don’t believe he knew she was a witch until after they got married. My mother seemed to worship him when I was very young, although it turned into fearing and despising him by the time I left for Hogwarts. My mother was all alone in the world, without any family waiting for her, so it was probably just easier to slip into this new life. She just wanted to feel loved. She thought my father would give that to her.” His voice had slipped just above a whisper at this point. He hadn’t meant to say this much when he started, but there was something cathartic in finally talking about it. The only other person to know this much about him was Lily.

“Thank you for telling me all of this.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, still emotionless.

She curled up next to his warm body, inhaling his musky scent. “Next time will you tell me something about your Hogwarts years?”

He hesitated. “Maybe.”

* * *

“Sorry I’m late,” Pansy wobbled in her high heels as she entered the dimly lit room in which her husband sat. “Rita wanted to go drinking in Hogsmeade after the interview and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Pansy winced as she balanced on one foot to pull off a shoe, then doing the same with the other leg.

“Did you get it?” Theodore searched Pansy’s face intensely, standing up and approaching her.

She winked at him, pulling the plastic bag out of her purse and holding it up for him to view. Inside were 3 strands of Snape’s hair she'd extracted earlier when she had "accidently" ran into him.

“Excellent.”

“Need I remind you that it was _I_ who successfully got the evidence? Risking a lot doing it too, you and I both know how observant and suspicious Severus Snape is. I don’t want you going around bragging about how you pulled off another great feat.”

“Pansy, darling, you performed marvelously today.” He flashed a smile at her but it was tinged with derision. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re still the most brilliant of them all, Theodore. Don’t you worry, I’m not going to try to usurp your power. I just ask for a little credit. Merlin knows Rita’s not giving me any credit at work.”

“Oh darling, credit you will definitely receive when we succeed. When we make the wizarding community strong again.”

* * *

 **Chapter 20 Teaser:  
** “…We’re in danger unless we resist their control. Go search for yourself. You’ll find what I’m saying is true…” 

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, & favoriting!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N #1-My loves, I had to go fix something in Chapter 19 the day after I posted it, there was potential for a plot hole, eek! If you read Chapter 19 the night it was posted (Oct 4th) or the day after (Oct 5th) I encourage you to read/skim it again. I made changes to the 2 scenes with Pansy (interview scene & final scene w/ Theodore). Thank you & I appreciate you all!
> 
> A/N #2-I used Emma Watson’s hair style at the Noah premiere in the U.K. (2014) as inspiration for one of the scenes.
> 
> DISCLAIMER-This chapter (and future chapters) will feature the British Prime Minister. The character in here is in no way a reflection of the real life, historical Prime Minister. Please take careful note that I do not mean to disparage, defame, or insult the real British government or Prime Minister and everything in this story is entirely fictional. The characterization is my own head canon and in no way reflects reality.

 

Theodore Nott swirled his glass of Firewhisky, two pieces of ice clinking against the sides of the glass. He stared out the window as an early December snow fell peacefully around the estate his father had passed to him. He scoffed at the memories of his father, having grown up with such conflicting feelings towards the man. He had feared him, sometimes hated him, felt ambivalent about him most of the time, but also found a morsel of admiration for him too. He’d never felt really connected to the patriarch, mostly due to the significant age difference and the fact that his father was always incredibly reserved around his only child. There hadn’t been much quality bonding time spent together. Nott Sr. had hired a Squib as a nanny after Theodore’s mother died when he was only 3. Fiona had taken care of his physical needs, but had always been a timid, skiddish thing, never offering much emotional attachment, so Theodore had grown up without a lot of affection.

When his father had been wounded and left behind by fellow Death Eaters after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries in 1996, finding himself subsequently arrested and incarcerated in Azkaban, Theodore had gladly accepted an invitation to stay with Blaise during the summer holiday. His father didn’t even try to contact him once he broke out of Azkaban in the summer of ’97 alongside Lucius Malfoy, which didn’t really surprise Theodore, but did slightly offend the teenager after hearing how Malfoy senior had been desperate to return home to his own wife and son.

He’d seen his father arrive the day of the Battle at Hogwarts in 1998. Nott Sr. had been hurt fairly early in the battle, staggering against a wall outside the Great Hall, wounded from a hex. Theodore threw his father’s arm over his shoulders and helped him limp into a nearby room that was, for the moment, unoccupied. Closing the door, Theodore cast a silencing charm and basic security lock then turned his attention to his father who was gasping for air, wheezing and holding his chest.

“Listen to me, son. Voldemort, our side…we have to win. It’s crucial.”

Theodore had folded his arms across his chest, staring at his father with a blank expression. “Why?” He’d been raised with pureblood ideology, but never found it powerful enough to convince him to become a Death Eater himself.

“Voldemort will protect us.”

“Just how, father? The pureblood families are dying out. Is he going to somehow magically multiple us? Even with arranged marriages our numbers our thinning out.”

“It’s not just about protecting pureblood families, Theodore. It’s about the safety of Wizardkind as a whole. Against the _Muggles_ ,” his father spat the word out. “Not just Muggle born wizards and witches. Muggle governments.” His father’s voice was incredibly raspy by this point. He was losing strength.

“What are you talking about, father?” Theodore stared at him like his father had grown two heads.

“The Muggle governments…they want to control us. We’ve fought against them in the past. It’ll happen again. They want to register us and monitor us. With their advancing technology…I hate to say it, but it’s true. We’re in danger unless we resist their control. Go search for yourself. You’ll find what I’m saying is true. Wizardkind might lose its autonomy…may even cease to exist.”

His father died later that day, insisting on going back out into the battle and continuing to fight until his last breath. After talking with his father, Theodore had fled the school, feeling so confused and disillusioned that he couldn’t concentrate well enough to defend himself properly.

Theodore did follow his father’s last instructions and began searching for evidence to verify his father’s claims. He came back to Hogwarts take his N.E.W.T. exams, escaping any kind of trial for suspected Death Eaters by showing his unmarked arms and with the help of Mrs. Zabini’s testimony that he’d been staying with her family the last couple of years, instead of with any Death Eaters. A job came fairly quickly, because of his Outstanding marks in Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, Defense against the Dark Arts, and History. He had also scored highest in the Alchemy class that he took his 6th year. He got a job with the Magical Surveillance Department. Minister Shacklebolt had placed special emphasis on creating new measures and increasing regulations to oversee the Magical Exposure Threat Level, hoping to better maintain the secrecy of the wizarding community after the destruction the Death Eaters caused in Muggle areas of London in their attempts to capture Harry.

And what Theodore found, while working as a Surveyor, confirmed his father’s claims. The Muggle government in London was indeed creating new restrictions and more control over the wizarding community. And Shacklebolt let them, in fact he seemed to cater to their every whim, and in Theodore’s eyes, the Muggle government was steamrolling over the Ministry of Magic. It made Theodore sick. He began to investigate more, sneaking around and searching for records on what the future held for the wizarding community.

He’d be damned if he sat by and let this happen. This wasn’t a mission to save purebloods, but rather to save the wizarding community’s autonomy. But the wizarding community needed a newer, stronger government. They needed to learn how Shacklebolt was a pushover; the Ministry needed to lose its power in a vote of no confidence. Then the wizarding community would be ready for a government that could redeem them, to regain their power and protect their rights. He just needed to make sure that certain other wizards wouldn’t get in his way.

* * *

Draco felt a hand slip around his arm, just above his elbow, and tug lightly. He was out in Diagon Alley, perusing the stores looking for Christmas gifts for his parents during his lunch break.

“Draco, a word?” Theodore’s mouth was close to his ear, as he tugged once more. Draco rolled his eyes and yanked his arm away, but followed Theodore into an abandoned alleyway.

“What is it this time?” he implored, staring into Theodore’s dark gaze.

“Same thing that it is every time. You know the truth. You’ve seen the evidence. You’ve heard Blaise talk about how the international community is all doing the same thing, in on it together. Wizardkind is in trouble. We need you Draco. I want to make sure you’re with us. Things will get worse before they get better.”

“I don’t know. Your plan is risky. And I don’t know if I want to get involved at all-“

“Sure you do. Trying to avoid taking sides is going to be nearly impossible at some point. And my plan is risky in the best of ways. Now, can I count on you to be there when we need you? Think of your mother and your father and everything they’ve been through. Do you really want to risk their peace, their security, their well-being?”

Draco glared at Theodore, who stood with a confidence, menacing gaze. “Are you really implying that my family and I will be in danger if we don’t actively support you and your agenda?”

“I’m _saying_ that I can’t guarantee anything unless you’re truly with us, one of us, loyal in solidarity. Now, what say you?”

“I need to get back to work, that’s what I say,” Draco snarled.

“Think about it, Draco, this will be the last time I extend this offer to you.”

“What a threat,” Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. He brushed past Theodore and back out into the main street, jamming his fists inside his pockets and frowning deeply.

* * *

Hermione just happened to be coming out of Amanuensis Quills, finishing up some of her Christmas shopping, when she saw Theodore approach and subsequently lead Draco into a small alley down the street. Theodore’s urgency sparked her interest, but the withdrawn, weary look on Draco’s face was even more curious. Pausing to think for a few seconds Hermione decided to cast a Disillusionment charm over herself and get closer to where the two stood talking. She only heard the last part of their conversation:

“Are you really implying that my family and I will be in danger if we don’t actively support you and your agenda?”

“I’m _saying_ that I can’t guarantee anything unless you’re truly with us, one of us, loyal in solidarity. Now, what say you?”

“I need to get back to work, that’s what I say,” Draco snarled.

“Think about it, Draco, this will be the last time I extend this offer to you.”

Hermione heard Draco mutter something and his feet shuffling against the ground as he came towards her. She reflexively backed away and into the brick wall of the storefront behind her, still under the Disillusionment charm. She eyed Draco suspiciously but took note of his deep frown and angry eyes as he walked back towards Gringotts.

She hadn’t seen or heard anything about Theodore Nott since graduating Hogwarts. The whole interaction seemed suspect, mostly because she still didn’t trust Draco or any of his former friends. But the peculiar thing was that Theodore was trying to coerce Draco in some way and Draco’s responses were less than friendly. The whole encounter confused Hermione. She saw Theodore retreat from the alley and head the other way, looking calm and collected, unlike the frazzled Draco. She almost forgot to undo the concealing charm as she took off down the street to Flourish and Blotts.

* * *

Hermione entered her classroom the day after the term ended to find a bouquet of red and white ranunculus, white baby’s breath, and festive holly arranged in a vase on her desk. She plucked the little note out of the card holder, smiling as her eyes recognized Snape’s elegant cursive.

_As the end of the term is keeping both of us busy, I would like to take you out for a proper date tomorrow night at 6. We’ll be dining out in London, attire will be semi-formal, and after-dinner plans are a surprise. Maybe these flowers will brighten up a desk full of exams waiting to be graded._

Hermione shook her head, slapping the note against one hand. So Severus Snape seemed to have a romantic side after all. It wasn’t that he was terrible at dating, they just hadn’t gone out for a formal date in their two months together yet; both with too many obligations at Hogwarts that prevented them from having a normal dating life. But she was touched at the effort he was putting into planning this date. _Semi-formal attire?_ She’d have to go through her dresses or maybe borrow something from Ginny. She honestly had no idea what he would plan, especially since he didn’t like going out in society much. But she was so excited that she had to exert great effort and mental energy into focusing on her grading the rest of that day.

The next afternoon she took her time getting ready. She chose to wear more makeup than she normally did, even for a night out, going for a smoky eye approach and actual lipstick, instead of just lip gloss. She only had one shade, a dark red, and applied it lightly but effectively. It took her awhile to figure out what she wanted to do with her hair. Normally she’d straighten it for dates, but Snape seemed to like her curls, often wrapping some of her hair around his fingers, whenever they lay in bed. But the style of little black dress she had borrowed from Ginny made her want to pull her hair up and off her back and neck. So she fussed over tweezing her eyebrows, lotioning up her body, selecting jewelry, and perfuming herself before finally deciding to pull it back into a high bun, dramatically parting her bangs on the left side and pulling the hair over to the right side tightly, securing it behind her right ear with a few bobby pins. It took her three attempts to master the look she was going for before she was finally satisfied.

Snape flooed into her room promptly at 6. He was dressed, as usual, in mostly black, except instead of wearing a robe and usual waistcoat, he wore a sportsman jacket, white shirt, and black tie. He held a coat in his arms.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” she said, smirking, as she sat on the edge of her bed, slipping on black stilettos with a thin strap that wrapped around her ankle, also borrowed from Ginny.

“It’s going to take all my effort to keep my hands off you while we’re out tonight.” His eyes took in the sight of her in the knee length, spaghetti strap dress with a low back, the heels, the diamond earrings she wore, the way her neck looked elegant with her hair swept up like that.

“You’re not going to touch me at all?” she pouted dramatically. “You could at least hold my hand.”

He made a throaty sound, something between a growl and a groan, but not out of anger.

“I loved the flowers by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Not as lovely as you are,” his arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her in for a passionate kiss.

“None of that now, you’re going to mess up my makeup,” she gave him a playful grin when she pulled away.

“You’re right. There will be plenty of time to mess up that hair and makeup later.”

She laughed, grabbing her formal coat and clutch purse. “Where to, good sir?”

He pulled her body into him again, but for other purposes this time. She quickly found herself in a dark street, with Snape leading the way for about half a block until they were outside of posh, upscale restaurant. “Is this a Muggle restaurant?”

“It is,” he held open the door for her.

They enjoyed an Italian dinner with bread sticks galore. He ordered eggplant parmesan and she had the gnocchi soup, daintily spooning it from the bowl.

“Tell me about your Hogwarts days,” she asked in between bites.

He stopped chewing, the food laying limp against his teeth and tongue. He knew she’d ask again and was surprised she’d waited this long, weeks after he told her about his childhood. His mind automatically threw up its Occlumency shield, as he tried to sort through _something_ he felt comfortable enough revealing.

He put his fork down, resuming his chewing slowly. “I was in Slytherin. My head was often buried in my books, like someone else I know,” he shot her a knowing look that made her smile as she spooned another bite into her mouth, “I liked most of my classes, although History with Professor Binns was a bore, as you probably well know, and I didn’t really appreciate Care of Magical Creatures. But I excelled at Potions, was a member of the Slug Club, although Professor Slughorn didn’t seem to care for me much on a personal level. I liked flying but didn’t like Quidditch. And I played chess.” He tried to add a little personal detail with the hope that she wouldn’t ask more follow up questions. He was not so lucky.

“You went to school with Harry’s parents and Remus and Sirius, yes?”

“I did.” _Here it comes._

“And Draco’s parents…were you all in the same year?”

“Draco’s father was in his 6th year when I began, he was a prefect. He served as an older brother figure in my life for my first two years you could say. Narcissa was in her 5th year. The others were in my year.”

“I’m assuming the Gryffindor-Slytherin hostility was strong then too?”

“Indeed.” He tried to focus on his food and remain as cool-headed and impassive as ever.

“Did you know them well though?”

“We took classes together.”

“I know you and Sirius didn’t get along.”

“Not at all. I saw another side of him than you all ever experienced.”

“Was he a bully?”

Finally he met her eyes. “Why should we spoil the evening talking about school yard bullies and awkward teenage years?”

“I just want to know more about your life, that’s why. It’s important to me.”

“Then yes. Sirius was your traditional bully. At least towards me.”

“And the others?”

“Peter Pettigrew was a coward and a fool. Remus could be tolerable at times, but often bowed to the stronger personalities of the group like James and Sirius. And James was a proud spoiled jock.”

“What was Lily like?”

“She was different than them. Not mean spirited. She didn’t really become close friends with them until our last couple of years.”

“I’m sorry you were bullied.” She reached across the white clothed table to squeeze his hand, her eyes filled with empathy. “Is that why you always acted like you hated us Gryffindors? Especially Harry and his friends most of all?”

“I acted immaturely.”

The waiter came with the cheque. Snape appreciated the distraction.

“I’m excited to know what we’re doing next,” Hermione wiggled with anticipation in her seat. Snape gave her a small, tight lipped smile, still reeling over the former conversation topic. It seemed, for the moment, that the interrogation was over.

Leaving the restaurant he took her hand and slipped it through his arm as he led her to the surprise. He slowed his pace when he realized she was having a hard time keeping up with his long strides, her heels clacking against the pavement. They finally stopped outside a theater, Queen’s Theater to be exact.

Hermione gasped, looking up at the poster that hung from one side of the corner building.

“Are you taking me to see Les Miśerables?”

“Yes, I am. I got tickets weeks ago.”

She had tears in her eyes. “Oh my gosh. This is…it’s perfect. Thank you, thank you so much. I’m so excited,” she turned to face him, grabbing both of his hands.

“I’m glad. Now we better get inside before we freeze to death.” He ushered her inside, pulling the tickets from his coat pocket.

She gasped a second time when they entered into the auditorium, her eyes taking in the huge chandelier, ornate balcony and ceiling décor.

The musical was perfection, from the singing, to the costumes, to the acting. Hermione sat mesmerized the whole time, feeling almost as if she were in a dream.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” she sniffed, turning her head away from him.

He took her hand in his. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m merely surprised. I didn’t think you were one to show emotion in public.”

“I’m sorry, the story just really gets to me. And watching it performed live, in this theater. It’s just wonderful.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I thought we were long overdue for a proper date.”

“Thank you, Severus,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as the actors began the final scene.

* * *

Tonks sighed as she stared at the paperwork in front of her, pulling her fingers through her hair. She was sitting alone in her office on Christmas day. She’d given as many Aurors as she could possibly spare the morning and early afternoon off to celebrate with their loved ones. Ron had served the Christmas Eve and overnight shift, allowing her to spend some quality time with Teddy and her mother. They had enjoyed a beef and potato soup, opening some gifts, and singing carols together while sipping on some hot cocoa. She had more Aurors coming in around the dinner time, and she would take her leave shortly after to head to Hermione’s house.

The source of her frustration wasn’t working on Christmas though. She was used to working holidays. No, currently she was discouraged because her team still had no idea as to the whereabouts of the Carrow siblings. Only they and one other, less violent, prisoner hadn’t been caught since the breakout last spring. What was worse was that there hadn’t even been any sightings of Alecto and Amycus.

Tonks was still beating herself up for taking time off during the epidemic. She couldn’t fully forgive herself for feeling like she had let Robards and the team down. She already knew first hand how much trouble those two were. She had handled them during the Battle at Hogwarts. Maybe if she had been there she could have prevented them from escaping.

And it didn’t even really seem like either of their sisters, the twins, were in contact or helping them, at least from what Tonks could tell. By this time they had lessened surveillance around the Carrow Estate. She and Ron had decided they needed those Aurors on the streets or at Azkaban, instead of staked out in front of the Carrow’s house.

But the biggest embarrassment of all was the British Prime Minister’s response when Shacklebolt had told him about the prison breakout. Livid was a calm way of phrasing his reaction. Shacklebolt had waited for nearly two weeks, hoping they could round up the escapees without having to report it to the Muggle government. Tonks had felt nervous and queasy the whole day leading up to the meeting that Shacklebolt had requested her and Ron attend with him.

The Prime Minister’s face had turned several shades of red as he castigated Shacklebolt, leveling stern words at Ron and Tonks as well.

“This is an outrage! A colossal failure and show of incompetence!”

“Sir, please-“ Shacklebolt tried to get a word in after the announcement.

“I’m so tired of hearing how...how you wizards are affecting my community. When that group of wizard gangsters, the…the Death Cheaters-“

“Eaters,” one of his aides corrected.

“Eaters, whatever! They flew around London and caused normal Brits harm because of their careless actions. I have to look after my people first and foremost-“

“I understand that Mr. Prime Minister, I really do,” Shacklebolt tried to cut in again.

“Do you?! Do you?! Because it seems like you can barely control your people!” He was standing and pacing now, his hands on his hips.

“Like these Muggles don’t ever have prison breaks or crime of their own,” Ron whispered to Tonks, pulling a face.

“Listen, I know this is distressing, we’re doing everything we can to search for the escapees. But as part of our agreement I wanted to inform you. Communication between our two governments is key,” Shacklebolt continued quickly.

The Prime Minister shot Shacklebolt a grim look, continuing to pace. He was breathing loudly through his nose and Tonks imagined steam shooting out of his ears.

“Your government is inferior to mine. You answer to me,” he pointed at his chest, his hand shaking in anger.

“Mr. Prime Minister, I don’t mean any disrespect but-“

“No, I’m sorry Kingsley but these are the exact things I’ve been concerned about since I came into power just as your Death Eaters were ransacking all of Great Britain! It seems to be that you can’t reign in your people, that you don’t have much control as a government. I can’t allow you guys the privileges you once had. How can I trust your kind with all the ways you can affect my people?”

“Surely you’re not indicating that Wizardkind is more volatile than the Muggles? Don’t we both have issues with crime and violence? With discrimination?”

“You know this is different,” the Prime Minister shook his head furiously. “Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten the history between our cultures and the ‘War for the Greater Good.’ I’m not naïve to what’s been going on. I will do everything I can to make sure _your kind_ is kept in its place and answers to us fully.”

“We already give you accounts for our magical beasts and wizarding events-“

“I want detailed accounts of every single one of you living in the United Kingdom. Jobs, residences, marriages, children, ages, hospital patients, diseases, all your concealed establishments, that school you fought at, creatures, bank accounts, prisoners-“

“We’ve kept ourselves concealed for both our societies’ benefits.”

“I don’t care. I want access to all that info. And I will take more drastic measures if need be.”

Ron couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He shot to his feet, his legs crashing against the table and making it wobble, garnering surprised looks from everyone. “This is crazy! You can’t punish us for the crimes of wizards in the past, Grindelwald is dead Voldemort is dead!” he cried out indignantly.

“Ron, sit down,” Tonks tugged on her colleague’s sleeve insistently.

“This isn’t punishment,” the Prime Minister laughed bitterly. “This is taking precautions so I don’t _have_ to punish your kind.”

“But we already have so many regulations and rules we have to follow!”

“ _Ron._ ” Tonks nervously tugged again.

“And apparently they’re not enough.”

* * *

Hermione’s cottage was warm and merry with jovial holiday spirit on Christmas Day. Even with the extension charm the place was snug, but nobody seemed to mind. December had been gracious to the citizens of the U.K. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen all day Christmas Eve, lifting just before dawn on Christmas Day. The day itself was frosty cold, but sunny. Hermione had retired to her house two days prior to prepare, diligently cleaning, decorating, and cooking. Luckily everyone else had offered to bring at least one dish with them, so she prepared a ham and baked a loaf of banana bread. Her parents brought a turkey with them. Ron brought mashed potatoes and gravy, Harry and Ginny a cheesy vegetable casserole, Neville and Luna came later after spending the day at her father’s, bringing with them a non-vegan fruit pie for dessert. Molly prepared a stuffing casserole and homemade cranberry sauce. McGonagall brought dinner rolls and peppermint sweets. Tonks had let Teddy pick out a dessert to bring and he had chosen figgy pudding.

Snape arrived later in the day, carrying four bottles of wine, two red and two white. Hermione nearly kissed him right in front of everyone, so happy to see him arrive. He had stayed at Hogwarts with the other faculty members and students who were boarding over the holidays for the late Christmas breakfast tradition, telling Vector that he’d be back late that night, putting her in charge. She gave him a funny, knowing look and told him not to rush back. He had a sneaky suspicion that that she somehow knew his and Hermione’s secret.

Teddy darted around, wearing a Santa hat, exclaiming over gifts. He had spent the morning with his grandmother before Harry and Ginny had arrived to take the two of them to Hermione’s house, with Tonks arriving later.

“Look at these chocolate frogs your mum gave me!” He showed Ron, his brown eyes wide with delight.

“Excellent, let’s get them open so we can see what cards you got!” Ron exclaimed just as excited as Teddy.

Hermione sat down in the open seat beside Teddy, only to watch the boy scoot away from her on the sofa. She frowned a bit but kept trying to appeal to the child who had never warmed up to her.

“Oh, cool, Teddy! Let me see what you got!”

“Umm…it’s just these frogs.” Teddy wouldn’t even look at her.

“Do you have a lot of cards collected already?”

“A few.”

“So I take it you’re having a good Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione sighed and gave up, heading across the room to company that would actually hold a conversation with her. To be fair, Teddy was the only young child she’d ever really been around, never growing up with siblings and only interacting with kids her own age or adults. She began to suppose that she just wasn’t good with little kids.

“Don’t give up, you need to just relax. You’re trying too hard. Kids can sense when you’re nervous around them,” Ginny reassured Hermione, sidling up to her.

“I just don’t know how to interact with kids. To relate to them. Teddy never seems to like me,” Hermione let out a small laugh, but it was filled with bitterness. “God, can you imagine me as a mother? My kids would never want to be around me. They’d be the most awkward, stiff things ever.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking doubtful. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just being realistic.”

The curious thing was how Teddy reacted to Snape, once he had arrived. Teddy had actually run full force into the grim faced wizard, looking up at him with startled eyes, a look of awe crossing his face as Snape loomed large over him.

“Sorry, sir,” his voice small.

Snape raised an eyebrow, hoping to inspire more trepidation from the boy, but was surprised when Teddy kept talking.

“I got this train for my train set and I was running to show granny.”

“You should look where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir,” the meek response came.

A little while later Snape caught Teddy glancing at him from across the room.

“What is it, child?” Snape tried to put on his best stony expression, but failed to extinguish the faint hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I wanted to show you my chocolate frog cards.”

“Come,” Snape beckoned him waving Teddy to draw near. “Show me.”

Teddy began showing the cards, carrying on a conversation with Snape, asking about the wizards and witches on each card. Over the course of the interaction he drew closer and closer to Snape, until his small leg was pushed up against Snape on the sofa; neither seemed to mind as they were quite focused on the cards.

Hermione watched the exchange from across the room, feeling even more rejected by the little boy, but intrigued with Snape’s gentle way with the child. She had never imagined him to feel at ease with a young child.

Then, before anyone really knew it, Teddy fell asleep against Snape’s arm. Snape, who was now engaged in conversation with McGonagall, barely seemed to take notice at first. When he did notice he froze, wide eyed, not sure what to do next. And then, to everyone’s surprise, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around Teddy, repositioning the boy for a better nap against the side of his own chest. McGonagall said nothing, knowing Snape wouldn’t appreciate such a comment, but tears glistened in her eyes anyway. Andromeda shook her head and clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth in amusement as she turned back towards Neville and Luna. Ginny smiled affectionately, wrapping her own arm around Harry and staring at Teddy and Snape with longing eyes. Hermione gave a small smile too, but felt a knot in her stomach, an unease she couldn’t explain.

* * *

Harry watched Hermione and Snape’s interactions with vague interest at first. He hadn’t really noticed the different dynamic between the two, even being in a close work proximity. In fact it was Ron who had brought up the topic with Harry as they stood watching Snape make his way around the room, pouring wine for the guests and actually looking like he was enjoying himself, albeit still rather stiffly. He barely smiled but his eyes were gentle and his tone congenial. It was the way he looked at Hermione, however, that really caught Ron’s attention. And the way she returned his looks. Snape’s eyes softened when they met Hermione’s and a smile played at his lips. She, in turn, flushed, smiling shyly, affection radiating from her eyes.

Ron wasn’t an incredibly observant or intuitive guy, but this interaction stuck him as significant. Ron leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a dark red sweater that his mum had made for him. Luckily it was a plain sweater and not her usual conspicuously frilly design.

“Why is Hermione smiling at Snape that way?” Ron asked Harry, figuring since Harry worked with them he’d know.

“I dunno,” Harry admitted, now taking notice. 

It was a little while later when Harry was sitting near the three older female guests-McGonagall, Andromeda, and Molly-munching away on a second slice of pie when he heard Snape’s name come up as a topic of conversation again.

“I just haven’t ever seen Severus looking this healthy,” Molly was saying.

“I daresay he looks _happy_ ,” Andromeda nodded.

“Yes…yes he does,” McGonagall said calculatingly. Her eyes rested on Hermione, who was currently in a fit of laughter as she conversed with her parents and Snape. He was staring at Hermione curiously, his eyes lit and attentive.

“Well he deserves it after all these years. Minnie, do you know what his source of happiness is?”

“I could not tell you,” she lied, but she had a hard time not fidgeting in her seat and giving away what she truly thought. _Is the prophecy finally playing out? Everything that Dumbledore had tried to cultivate?_ She felt a nervous rush of emotions. But her attention was drawn back to Molly and Andromeda.

“And how is your international son doing, Molly?”

“Charlie is still in Romania and doing great, he’s become quite a well known Dragon researcher, published two articles just this year. And Percy is in the United States now working as a liaison with the American Ministry of Magic.”

“Oh mercy me, I had forgotten about Percy!” Andromeda exclaimed, putting her hand over her heart to show her shock and embarrassment.

“Oh don’t you worry, Andromeda, everyone always forgets about Percy,” Molly reassured her, flicking her wrist to dismiss the issue.

“Well they’re both incredibly successful. And Ron and his career! You should be very proud of your whole brood, Molly,” McGonagall chimed in now.

“That I am,” Molly sat up straighter, her face flushed with triumph as she looked around at all the partygoers.

“And Ginny, when do you think she and Harry will start a family?” Andromeda asked quietly, although Harry had moved away from the group at this point.

“Oh it could be any time now,” Molly whispered. “I know they’ve been trying.”

“Oh wonderful. It’ll be lovely to see more Potters in the world again.”

Harry had, in fact, stepped outside and into the frigid night, needing a break from all the speculation and questions about Snape and Hermione, trying to wrap his mind everything he’d heard or seen.

* * *

“Hermione really looked happy tonight,” Susan Granger slipped her arm through her husband’s, pulling close to him for warmth as they walked down the path outside their daughter’s home. Her home was in a more secluded area, opening up into the countryside, just down the street from the rest of the houses on the block, which is where they had parked. The snow sparkled in the moonlight.

“She did. It was great to see all her friends and their families again.”

“Did you notice the way she looked at Severus Snape?”

“No, not really. That’s one of her former professors isn’t it? And now her boss?”

“Mmmhmm,” Susan smiled into her husband’s arm.

“How did she look at him?”

“Let’s just say I haven’t seen our daughter this happy in a long time.”

“What? No! But…he’s so much…older. He’s probably almost our age.”

“I’m not saying anything is going on. She hasn’t told me anything. I’m just happy and relieved she doesn’t look as depressed as the last couple of Christmases.”

“And you think it has to do with him?”

“Maybe.” She had an inkling she was right.

* * *

The next week passed by uneventful. Hermione had taken to joining Snape in his room, sometimes spending the night, sometimes flooing back to her room late in the night. They picked up a steady rhythm of working alongside each other, sitting in his living area on the sofa and chairs near the fire, or with their work spread out across his dining table. They were still keeping their relationship private, save for Ginny, but Hermione hadn’t told Snape that Ginny knew yet, not sure what his reaction would be.

For New Years Eve Hermione agreed to spend part of the evening at Harry and Ginny’s. Neville and Luna came as well, but were planning on leaving soon after midnight to celebrate their first wedding anniversary in Tokyo. Harry and Ginny had also invited Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender to their house in Hogsmeade. Ron and Tonks were both working; Ron at Azkaban and Tonks on patrol in London. Hermione promised Snape she’d be back before midnight so they could ring in the New Year together. Despite being separated from him this evening, she found herself having fun. She explained how to play Pictionary. Harry, Ginny, Seamus, and Hermione’s team won; mostly because everything Luna drew was usually an obscure detail of the subject on her clue card that none of her teammates could guess correctly.

It was nearing 11 pm when Hermione began saying her goodbyes. When she couldn’t find Harry or Ginny she headed down the hallway towards the bathroom, hearing a couple of muffled voices and then her name from their bedroom. She paused, holding her breath and trying to catch what was being said.

“I have to ask her-“

“No, Harry, don’t, not tonight. Another time maybe, but not tonight.”

“I just don’t understand. I thought he loved my mum.”

“He did, Harry, you know that. You saw Dumbledore’s memories. You know he switched sides and became a spy to protect you because he loved her. But that was over 20 years ago. Did you really expect him to never move on?”

“But with _Hermione_?!”

“What’s wrong with that? She’s your friend, why wouldn’t you be happy for her?”

“So it’s true then?! You’ve known? Hermione and Snape are together? How long have you known? Why haven’t you told me?”

“Harry, stop. You’re going to spoil the night. If there is anything going on between them, it’s their business to tell.”  
“Well do you think she knows about his past with my mum? Don’t you think she’d talk to me about something like this first?”

“I don’t know, Harry. Just try to calm down about this. I think you should definitely talk to her about it eventually, but not tonight.”

By this point Hermione’s heart was palpitating. She backed away from the room where her friends talked, feeling like her throat was constricting. Grabbing her coat, she ran out of the house, with only Luna noticing her departure.

The night air was bitterly cold and the tears in her eyes seemed to freeze and crack across her corneas. _Severus…in love…with Harry’s mum…he’d never mentioned it before._

She walked through Hogsmeade, hugging herself more so for comfort than for warmth. _Why didn’t he tell me? Doesn’t he trust me? Is he still in love with her? Will he ever get over her?_ Stumbling in the dark towards Hogwarts she began to work out the pieces of his fragmented story. The Marauders had bullied him. He seemed to have special animosity towards James Potter. Being in love with Lily would explain that hostility. _But did he have a relationship with Lily?_ Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva, tears streaming down her face now, as she realized he may have _slept_ with Harry’s mum. _No wonder Harry was so freaked out! Oh God, oh God, oh God._

Standing just outside the castle’s door she felt paralyzed. She told Snape she’d join him when she got back. But she couldn’t, she was so horrified. She apparated back to her private rooms, avoiding the halls in case he was roaming about. She had to get warm. She had to get control of her emotions. She had to think.

* * *

A cauldron of Polyjuice potion was ready by the end of the December, Theodore made sure there was enough for all six of them; four Carrows, himself, and Pansy. Thanks to the vacation Theodore and Pansy had taken over the summer to Brighton, each of them, except for Theodore, had strands of Muggle hair.

On New Years Eve he apparated with his wife, Flora, and Hestia to the tiny shack in Liverpool that concealed Amycus and Alecto’s presence from the world. Theodore, upon hearing where they were, had gone to see them, casting the Fidelius Charm, of which he had secretly mastered shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, around the shack to ensure their concealment. He’d also given them a House Elf to care for their needs while they hid out.

“Everyone have their hairs?” There was an assortment of voices, grunts, and nodding of heads in response. Theodore handed a vial of Polyjuice potion to each member of his squad.

“We should be on the safe side and only take this once he’s released. Alecto, Amycus, and I will use the Imperius curse on the guards. Flora and Hestia, as planned, we’ll meet you in the park where the fireworks are scheduled.”

Theodore turned to his wife now. “I need to make sure that I, or rather _he,_ is spotted by a few witnesses as we leave the asylum.” Theodore admired the black strands of Snape’s hair. “Make sure you can find some random Londoners to fulfill this role,” he instructed Pansy. She nodded dutifully.

“We can’t count on having the Polyjuice affect us for much time. There should be enough in there for you to keep up the transformation with a second sip. Otherwise, get the fuck out of there once you notice it wearing off. Our true identities can’t be seen. Head back to your homes so your absence isn’t conspicuous.”

“Uhh…what is a Dementor doing here?” Flora asked, looking over Theodore’s shoulder with a worried expression.

Theodore looked behind him and then back at the group. “Oh, don’t worry. The Dementors are all part of the plan.” He smiled maliciously.

* * *

“We need to talk,” Hermione’s voice was low and stern, her eyes stone cold when she finally arrived in his room, about an hour after midnight. His room was dimly lit so the fact that her eyes were swollen and red was lost on him. It wasn’t until she stepped into the light from the fire that he noticed something was wrong.

* * *

 

**Shit about to go down. Buckle up!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
> 
> A/N-I HIGHLY encourage you to listen to the Howling cover of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit before reading this chapter/while reading the first part of this chapter (embedded link at the bottom of page/end of chapter). I listened to it on repeat while working on this chapter. It’ll set the tone/mood. Nirvana is obviously legendary, but Howling’s version is creepier & perfect for this chapter. Quoted at the beginning & end.

****_With the lights out, it's less dangerous_  
Here we are now, entertain us  
I feel stupid and contagious  
Here we are now, entertain us

“Uhh…what is a Dementor doing here?” Flora asked, looking over Theodore’s shoulder with a worried expression.

Theodore looked behind him and then back at the group. “Oh, don’t worry. The Dementors are all part of the plan.” He smiled maliciously.

Alecto’s icy blue eyes snapped from the hovering black form of the Dementor to Theodore’s. She ran her tongue over the front of her top teeth, or what was left of them.

“Tell us, Nott, what is your plan with the Dementors?”

“I made a deal with them,” Theodore shrugged nonchalantly.

“Care to let us in on the secret?” Hestia asked haughtily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She was trying hard not to reveal just how spooked she was by the Dementor’s presence, when in reality she was shivering, any happiness she harbored being slowly sucked out of her.

“I believe the prisoner deserves to have his soul restored to him, or at least some of it I am guaranteed.”

“Some of it?” Pansy quivered. Clearly she hadn’t known about this particular part of her husband’s plans.

“This Dementor was the one who administered the Kiss to him, and apparently left a trace of his soul intact. But now it has graciously offered to restore _most_ of Crouch’s soul to him, for the promise of having Azkaban restored as the Dementor’s home when I take power. Call it a down payment of sorts.”

“That’s wicked, I love it.” Alecto’s nostrils flared as she exhaled forcefully.

* * *

“We need to talk,” Hermione’s voice was low and stern, her eyes stone cold when she finally arrived in Snape’s room, about an hour after midnight. His room was dimly lit so the fact that her eyes were red and swollen was lost on him. It wasn’t until she stepped into the light from the fire that he noticed something was wrong.

Snape had the blankets pulled up around his lap, _Crime and Punishment_ in his hands, and a mug of tea on his nightstand when Hermione came in after returning home from Harry and Ginny’s party.

“I trust you had fun with your friends?” He asked casually, looking up at her from his book. When she walked towards him his face grew solemn as he noticed her solemn demeanor and put his book down, giving her his full attention.

“Did you even care that I didn’t show up before midnight to ring in the new year with you?”

“I figured you decided to stay at Harry and Ginny’s.”

“Well I overheard some _interesting_ things about your past while I was there.”

Snape’s eyes widened and his heart felt like it stopped beating. “Oh?”

“Were you in love with Harry’s mother?”

 _How? How did that secret get out?_ Could he get away with lying? Or bending the truth? “What on earth would lead you to believe that?”

“Harry is under the impression that you were in love with his mum. Were you?” Her eyes fumed with anger, gold flecks sparking like embers in a fire.

Snape’s complexion dulled, resembling ash more than his usual milky, pallid tone. His eyes became expressionless and hollow.

* * *

“How did you find Barty Crouch Jr. anyway?” Flora asked.

“Research. I always wondered what happened to him since the Dementor’s Kiss after our 4th year. Apparently he was found wandering around the outskirts of London, barely clothed, speechless, and according to the asylum’s reports he ‘oscillates between a twitchy, psychotic state and a lifeless coma.’ From what I gather they don’t quite know what to do with him, but the government won’t allow them to kill him.”

“I didn’t know Dementors could restore souls,” Pansy had blanched now, looking sick to her stomach.

“This one does,” Theodore winked. “Alright, enough small talk. Time to get started.” He nodded at the Dementor. “We’re going to head to the asylum. I’ve already scoped it out. They usually have 2 or 3 guards on patrol at night. According to Crouch’s records he’s in cell C-05. He should be pretty subdued, probably won’t even recognize us. We’ll use an Imperius Curse on the guards to get in and maybe an Obliviate Charm if need be. Then we’ll meet you at the park. Remember not to linger too long. Everyone return to your houses after a few minutes. Jr. will come with Pansy and I.”

The plan was complicated and there were certainly cracks in it, but if they could pull it off, they’d create quite a scare, and if they play their cards just right, the wizarding community would finally lose faith in the Ministry. Theodore was most assured now that he had the Dementors on his side.

He’d been curious as to what had happened to Barty Crouch Jr. after the Dementor’s Kiss. It was only a couple of years ago that he had found something interesting in a set of documents he’d collected from his intelligence folder working at the Magical Surveillance Department. The files had seemed to go unnoticed by the other members in the Ministry, surfacing as a report on a mentally handicapped patient. The document made it unclear whether this patient, a male, was a wizard or not. In fact it didn’t have much information at all because he couldn’t speak to provide any answers, probably the reason the memo went unanswered.

His interest piqued, Theodore investigated said person, even venturing into the Muggle world to try to find answers. The patient had been found by Muggle authorities almost entirely naked, save for his underwear, delusional, bloodied and bruised, and barely able to move. He’d been transported to the hospital and then the mental ward networked to the hospital a block away. According to the report he was “surviving in little more than a vegetative state most of the time, with sporadic outbursts of physical energy and nonverbal psychotic breaks.”

Theodore knew better than to let this opportunity go to waste. The sheer fear of revealing Barty Crouch Jr. to the public, be it Muggle or Wizardkind, would be in and of itself enough. In his day, Barty Crouch Jr. had been a magnificently brilliant wizard, and if, _just if_ , Theodore could restore some of his sanity, Jr. may very well be a timely ally.

* * *

Hermione began shaking, the tears ready to flood out of her eyes again. “Answer me, Severus.” Her jaw hurt as she spoke through gritted teeth, clenching her right hand into a fist.

“It was a long time ago.”

“So it’s true?”

“It was true,” he studied his hands in his lap, his voice low and quiet.

“How could you not tell me?! Something like _that?!_ One of my best friend’s mothers!? And Harry said,” she hiccupped as her lungs revolted against her upset state, “he said that is why you became a spy. Everything you did, you did it for _her._ ”

* * *

Theodore used the Imperius Curse on the night guards at the asylum. He, Amycus, and Alecto found Barty Crouch Jr. lying on his side, his hands between his knees, staring blankly at the white wall on the other side of the room.

“Hello there, mate, fancy you’d like some of your sanity back?” Theodore nodded at the Dementor who had accompanied them in, making the room instantly feel icy cold.

It took less than a minute before the Dementor pulled away from Barty’s face.

“Hello,” Theodore smirked at the older wizard who sat up now, breathing heavily as he looked at the guests in his cell. “You remember these two, don’t you?” gesturing at Alecto and Amycus. The siblings watched him curiously.

Barty’s eyes wandered back and forth between their faces for a minute or two as he gathered his bearings. “What is going on?” his voice was hoarse and he began clearing his throat, abrupt sounds echoing off the walls.

“We’re taking you home, Barty. You belong with us.”

* * *

Pansy approached an older couple, eyeing them curiously. She was disguised as a red head, tall and thin. “Excuse me? Are you headed towards the park for the fireworks? May I walk with you? I’m nervous to be walking out here alone and the friend I’m meeting is already at the park.” She’d been frantically searching for anyone nearby that she could use as part of the plot. Apparently not many people wandered around in this area of the city and it made sense, it was poorly lit and a bit dingy.

“Of course, deary,” the woman answered kindly.

“It’s faster if you cut over through this alley and to the next block,” Pansy offered, hoping she’d be convincing enough. She needed to direct them closer to the asylum.

“Is it? Well now, come on Thomas, let’s go this way.”

The three walked in silence for a couple of minutes, turning the corner and heading up the street. The park was in view ahead, the asylum just a block behind them. Pansy looked back a couple of times, nervously waiting to see her husband and Barty emerge from the building.

“Did you hear something dear?” The woman asked Pansy when she saw her turn again.

“Yes, I thought I did. Look! Why are there people coming out of the asylum this late at night?” Pansy pointed, both relieved and terrified when she saw her husband disguised as Snape and Barty making their way through the shadows on the other side of the street. There was no sign of Alecto or Amycus; Theodore had advised them to take a different route to the park.

“Good question. It’s a little late for visitors isn’t it?” The woman turned to her companion, looking up at him questioningly. They both turned to look.

“He looks positively deranged,” Pansy shrieked, covering her mouth. She hid behind the older couple, who now looked tense and nervous. Barty Crouch Jr. did indeed look savage and wild. He could barely stand up straight, his face sunken and yellow, his mouth drooping.

“Yes, they do look strange. Hurry, let’s get away from them.” The man urged his wife and Pansy, speeding up his pace.

Theodore nodded at his wife from across the street as she heard Barty let out a low growl, his eyes fixated on the light from the park emanating from down the street. His tongue darted in and out the side of his mouth.

* * *

Tonks heard the screams before she saw anything. Suddenly people rushed about, pushing and staggering as their eyes bulged, wild panicked looks spread across their faces. Fireworks continued to go off. Tonks scanned the crowd, trying to move against the current of people, desperately seeking the source of their terror.

Another firework boomed, the sky lighting up with red and gold sparks.

“Move!” A large man plowed right into Tonks, pushing her to the ground. She scrambled out of the way as she saw more legs and feet moving towards her. If she didn’t act quickly her life would end in a stampede of Londoners.

She stood up, her breath hitching as she heard a screech. But it wasn’t a firework. It didn’t sound like any of the other fireworks. Suddenly she felt very sad. Sad and cold. 

Then she saw it, the black billowing form flying over the crowd. A Dementor.

“ _Fuck_ , she gasped. A young couple ran past her. “I feel so cold, Johnny, like ice is in my lungs,” the woman whimpered to her companion.

Muggles wouldn’t be able to see a Dementor, but they could sure feel the effects of one. But something else terrorizing the crowd, something the Muggles could _actually see_. But what, Tonks wondered.

Tonks managed to cast her Patronus, relaying a message to Ron back at Azkaban, just as she heard a low gurgling sound to her left.

* * *

Barty gnashed his teeth together, snarling at the people in front of him. Drool dripped down the side of his mouth, clinging to his chin, sticky and foul.

The Dementor flew around, relishing in the sight of so many people it could suck the happiness and energy from. Theodore gripped his vial of Polyjuice and took the last sip to keep up appearances. He only needed a couple more minutes anyway.

Barty Crouch Jr. ran around howling, a madman finally released from his soul-less prison. He resembled someone on hallucinatory drugs; his psychosis leading him to believe he was an untamed animal. As the fireworks began, each sound pounded in his ears, thrumming through his core more than it did the average person; all of his senses were heightened. Each flare of light made him feel like the sun itself was bursting and the remnants of its light were embers falling from the heavens, fireballs colliding with the earth.

Barty’s eyes dilated so much that the black pupils conquered the colored irises; bloodshot veins clung to each pupil. He sweated profusely, drops streaking down his face like raindrops on a glass window. His tongue continued to periodically flick out of the side of his mouth, while his lips drooped as if he had actually been drugged. His movements were spastic, his muscles jolting, invigorated from the return of part of his soul. Alecto, disguised as a Muggle, whooped and hollered, by Barty’s side, enjoying the terror all too much. The terror lasted less than 10 minutes.

* * *

Ron took in the chaotic scene, his eyes wide with horror. The screaming, the cries, people running in every which way.

“A zombie! A zombie!” a hysterical woman darted past Ron as his eyes followed her in confusion.

He felt so overwhelmed and stunned he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t find the source of everyone’s panic. Suddenly he saw Tonks with her wand out and pointed at the sky running past him.

“Tonks!”

“Ron, thank Merlin!”

“I called in all the Aurors. Harry’s at Azkaban.” He started running to keep up with her. She had her eyes set on the night sky but he couldn’t figure out on just what she was chasing.

“There was a Dementor. But I lost sight of it,” she filled in the gaps.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Dead serious. And,” she stopped running now looking exhausted and trying to catch her breath. “and I saw Barty Crouch Jr.”

“What? No…”

“Yes, really. I swear. I don’t know how, but I saw him, Ron. He looks terrible, but he’s alive.” She sighed looking around. By this point most of the park had cleared out and London police were beginning to scour the area. 

Ron ran his hand through his thick red hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “Well that explains why someone was yelling ‘zombie.’ C’mon, we better get outta here before they think we had something to do with it,” Ron said as he grabbed her arm gently, leading her near a dark and shadowed area of the park. “How many Aurors did you have on duty in London?”

“Six others.”

“Ok, let’s get back to Azkaban and send them messages. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Ron had been looking forward to ending his shift at 2am and going straight to bed.

“We need to call an emergency meeting and one of us should report to Hogwarts and the other to Shacklebolt and the Ministry.”

* * *

“Hermione, I-“

Suddenly a Jack Russell terrier came bounding into the room, circling it, Ron’s voice emanating from it: “Hermione, attack in Muggle London. At least 1 Dementor. All Aurors have been called on duty. Harry too. Make sure the school is secure. Will try to get you more information soon.”

Hermione and Snape locked eyes for a couple of brief seconds before Snape threw the bed covers off his legs and shot up out of bed, beginning to dress.

“I want to meet with all the House Heads. Go alert them and have them meet me in my office in 15 minutes. The three of them should be back from their holiday travels as far as I know. Also, make sure each portrait is informed to not allow anyone in or out of their common rooms under any circumstance unless it is the respective Head of House or myself. We will escort any of the students still here to breakfast in the morning.”

“We’re not through with this discussion.” Hermione threw him a dirty look before storming out of the room, feeling for her wand in her pocket.

* * *

Vector, Keighly, Belshazzar, and Hermione gathered in Snape’s office, the mood solemn. No one spoke and the tension swelled unbearably until Snape finally sighed, pacing behind his desk.

“Ms. Granger, if you would perhaps send a message to Ron or Harry or _someone_ so we can have any update on the current situation.”

Hermione exchanged an apprehensive glance with Vector. Snape rarely shed his calm demeanor but the tone of his voice now conveyed his own anxiety. She cleared her throat, holding out her wand to cast her Patronus, trying to summon a happy memory despite the last few hours of sorrow and worry she’d experienced. Just as the tip of her wand flared Harry apparated into the room, with Tonks gripping his arm as she sidelong traveled with him.

“What happened?” Snape demanded, his eyes flashing, the bravado of his voice booming throughout the room.

“We still haven’t figured out the whole story-“ Tonks was out of breath.

“No, far from it, actually,” Harry wiped his forehead, frustration etched across his face as he looked at his fellow teaching colleagues who all stood there staring, dumbfounded.

“The Patronus Ron sent said something about a Dementor,” Snape’s curt voice cut sharply through the room.

Tonks nodded, swallowing hard. She collapsed into a chair and rubbed her head. “I only saw one, but the scene was chaotic. It was during the firework show at midnight. There mighta been more. But I saw _him_ , Severus. I don’t know how but I saw Barty Crouch Jr.”

“ _Good God_ ,” Belshazzar gasped.

The Headmaster portraits, already standing alert before Harry and Tonks arrived, began to mummer and talk to each other in low voices, their own eyes revealing their panic as well.

Snape frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepening into a deep crevasse. “Was he cognizant?”

“He seemed almost animalistic. In fact some of the Muggles were yelling ‘zombie’ as they ran from him. He looked like hell, that much is true. Incredibly thin, worn out, jaundiced, drooling, insane. But _angry_. How could that happen, though, if he lost his soul? Would he still have feelings?”

“No, he shouldn’t. I’ve never known someone who faced the Dementor’s Kiss remain cognizant.”

“It has happened once before,” Armando Dippet’s baritone voice sounded from his portrait, drawing everyone’s eyes upwards to his white bearded face. His brown eyes looked forlorn, his face frail.

“Isn’t that just a rumor? A myth?” Belshazzar looked skeptical.

“No, it is true,” Dilys Derwent answered, bowing her head, her face solemn.

“Tell them, Dilys,” Dippet’s voice softened as he encouraged her to continue.

“When a Dementor kisses its victim, the soul of that person is trapped inside the Dementor. There was a case at St. Mungo’s when I worked there as a Healer, it was shortly after I started, 1722 or 1723, but it was when Damocles Rowle was the Minister of Magic. He was the one who established Azkaban as the formal prison and placed the Dementors as guards. You see, Rowle promised to ‘clean up the streets’ and offer more protection to the wizarding community when he ran for office in 1718. And the people wanted that, so despite some objections to his Azkaban and Dementor plan, the majority of wizards supported his ideas.

While he was minister, we had a patient at St. Mungo’s who was connected to a terrible string of crimes and Rowle was desperate to get information from him. The patient refused to give any answers to authorities. So one day, Rowle brought in a Dementor as part of his interrogation tactics. He only allowed two staff members in the room, specifically asking for two of the newest; I think it was because he felt he could threaten us to keep silent since we weren’t tenured enough to take a stand without losing our jobs. I was horrified to see a Dementor, I’d never seen one before, thought of them more as a myth than anything-“

“Get to your point, Dilys!” Phineas Black snapped from his portrait, glaring at Derwert.

“I am! Rowle used the Dementor to threaten the patient. When the patient still wouldn’t talk he let the Dementor take his soul. It was agonizing to watch. Rowle ordered us to keep the patient at St. Mungo’s, despite his soulless state. For all purposes the man’s body continued to work. He just didn’t have a personality anymore. Would stare blankly at the wall or ceiling all day,” she shuddered at her memory. “About a week later Rowle came back with the Dementor, grumbling. I’m not sure if someone else in the Ministry found out and began to protest or what, but he ordered the Dementor to return patient’s the soul.”

“How?” Keighly looked sick to his stomach.

“The Dementor had to put its face, or whatever you want to call it, onto the patient and breathe it back in. It was just as ghastly of a sight as the Kiss itself. I was there for that too. You couldn’t even see the patient’s face while it was happening.”

“Did the patient recover fully?” Hermione wrapped her arms around her torso, her face pale.

“It took a few days but he did seem to have his characteristics back by the time he was discharged, at least as far as I know.”

“But this was the only case like this, right?” Vector narrowed her eyes.

“Only one that I’ve ever known about,” Dilys sighed. “We’ve had criminals who were kissed by Dementors, they basically just become permanent residents at St. Mungo’s until their hearts or some other organ fails and their bodies die. Sometimes the Dementors don’t take the whole soul, but leave a sliver of it to torture the person, living with their own insanity.”

Hermione winced, exchanging a look with Keighly. “Wouldn’t Dementors eventually die off if they didn’t have people’s happiness and souls to rely on?” she asked timidly.

“Yes, that’s the theory.” Dippet replied.

“So in that case, why would a Dementor willingly return a soul?”

“Well I suspect that the Dementors were either threatened to do so, or promised something in exchange. They must be really desperate if that’s the case.” Dippet stroked his beard and stared off into the distance.

“Do you think it was all a ruse with Barty Crouch Jr.? I mean, if the Dementors were already starting to show signs of switching allegiance to the Death Eaters and Voldemort, maybe they didn’t take Barty’s soul completely? Maybe he’s been alive and in hiding this whole time?”

“Perhaps, but Minerva was there, she’s always vouched for the incident. With her sharp eye, I think she would have noticed something was amiss,” Snape answered.

“Ok, so what do we do now?” Harry shifted back and forth between his two feet, nervous tension pumping through his body.

“We’ve secured the school as much as we can. We’ll issue a new rule that the students can’t be outside unless accompanied by a professor. All students heading to Care of Magical Creatures will be escorted by a professor. I’ll put together a schedule. Hogsmeade trips will be suspended for the indefinite future. For now it looks like we’ll each have extra security shifts. Now I encourage everyone to return to their rooms and get some rest. Students will be returning to the school in just a few days. We’ll need to work with the Ministry and Aurors to ensure their safety during their travels. Let’s meet again tomorrow at 10 am.”

Vector, Belshazzar, and Keighly shuffled out of his office, a mixture of exhaustion and stress lingering around each of their bodies, hanging thick in the air. Tonks stood up, several bones in her legs and hips cracking as she did.

“Wait,” Snape held up a finger, addressing Harry and Tonks. He jerked his head at the door, glancing at Hermione. She understood what he meant and pushed it closed slowly, the latch silent as it slid into place. She turned around, leaning her back against the door for support. Her legs felt like they could give out at any minute.

“It would be wise if we formed a new Order,” Snape looked at Tonks, his voice growing more gentle, “like before.”

Harry nodded resolutely. “The four of us, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna.”

“Minerva?” Hermione shrugged and Snape nodded, deep in concentration.

“Ron’s brothers, Bill and George,” Harry added. “And their wives. Molly if she’s up for it.”

“I don’t want it to get too large of a group,” Snape instructed. “We should start meeting immediately, within the next day or two, even if everyone can’t attend. We need to start making a list of possible suspects and events of the last two years, try and piece everything together, if that’s even possible.”

“I saw Draco talking to Theodore Nott a few weeks ago. He didn’t look pleased about the conversation and Theodore seemed to be trying to coerce him,” Hermione offered, still leaning against the door across the room.

“Draco? I _knew_ he was involved in something,” Harry seethed.

“Well, maybe, but he looked upset about whatever Theodore was talking to him about. I have a feeling there’s more to it than what meets the eye.”

“Theodore Nott?” Snape questioned, his eyes roaming over his desk. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Have there been any files on him?” He looked up at Tonks.

“Not that I’ve seen but I’ll look more thoroughly and get back to you.”

“He has Death Eater ancestry,” Harry continued to look murderous.

“Yes, but he wasn’t ever sworn into the Death Eaters,” Snape dismissed the weak accusation.

“It’s a link, nonetheless,” Harry grumbled, still perturbed about piecing together Snape and Hermione’s relationship.

“Check for files on Pansy too,” Snape ordered.

“Alright,” Tonks agreed, nodding her head, her eyes firm with resolve, encouraged by Snape’s guidance. “I should get back to Azkaban. Ron met with Shacklebolt, I need to see what the Ministry’s response is. Harry will be our liaison. We’ll figure out a time to meet tomorrow.”

Snape nodded but remained silent, beginning to sort through papers on his desk. Harry and Tonks bid Hermione a quick goodbye, before disapparating.

Hermione hung back, watching Snape shyly, her eyes large and questioning. He continued to preoccupy himself with paperwork on his desk, knowing full well she was still there.

“You should go sleep, Ms. Granger,” he said gruffly, without looking up.

“I think we should-“

“Right now is not really a good time for that.”

“Right,” her voice just above a whisper. She turned to leave but his voice interrupted her retreat.

“We will talk about it soon.”

She left without responding, descending down the stairs, her mind racing but her body begging for rest.

It would be three more days before they found time to talk about Snape’s past.

* * *

For Hermione the last three days had been a lonely time, even as it had been filled with meetings and extra security shifts. At night she laid awake, trying to figure out her feelings, but always coming to the same conclusion: she didn’t know _what_ she should be feeling. On the one hand she felt like she overreacted. Snape had a right to a past with other women. She chastised herself for being upset for things that happened before she was even born. But she still felt threatened by the revelation. On the other hand she felt conflicted because of the sensitive nature of the situation. Lily wasn’t just some random woman from Snape’s past. But for Snape to be _in love_ with Harry’s mum, for so many years, and have that as a driving factor in his life was a whole other issue.

For one, Snape and Hermione had yet to exchange “I Love You’s.” Hermione didn’t want to rush it and she certainly didn’t want to make Snape feel coerced into saying it if she said it first. The memory of Oliver’s pressure on her to move faster than she was ready for still played in her mind like it was yesterday. She didn’t think Snape would be tolerant of even the lightest amount of pressure. She also had a hard time judging just how serious their relationship was; were they even on the same page about it? She had no idea if Snape felt the same way, especially with how emotionally closed off he could be. Even if Snape said those three words first, could she return them genuinely? _Yes, I think that I do love him,_ but there was still something within her that made her cautious to express it; that made her second guess. Something within her that said “wait, don’t reveal anything, don’t let him have that power over you.”

The second issue was that he’d actively concealed any feelings for Lily. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part to get him to talk about his past and school days, although she had no idea he had any specific past with Lily Evans Potter. The fact that he was always so tight-lipped on the subject not only irritated Hermione, but led her to think it was definitely more significant than a teenage crush.

Which led to the third major issue, based on what she’d overheard Harry and Ginny talking about, Snape had completely changed his life because of his love for Lily. _That_ had led him to become Dumbledore’s spy. _That_ had led him to diligently protect Harry for seven years and vis-à-vis Hermione and Ron as well. Whatever had happened between Snape and Lily, on his part it was powerful. And Hermione felt _jealous._ It didn’t matter if Lily was deceased, feelings so strong they would last for years made Hermione think that Snape may be a man who loved that deeply only once.

And the last complication was Harry. Obviously he had qualms about the relationship. She didn’t want to have conflict with Harry. She didn’t want to hurt him. He obviously felt betrayed, although in Hermione’s defense she had no idea about Snape’s past. But perhaps Harry believed she knew and still proceeded into the relationship, not caring how it would affect him?

She felt so differently about Snape than she had about Oliver or any other man really. The relationship with Snape was just so intense. The jealousy, the intoxicating lust and sexual awakening he had coaxed her through, the horror of feeling ignorant, the affection and fondness she felt so very deeply for him. But something had always held her back from fully feeling in love, free to express it, free to admit it. Truth be told, she hadn’t done a lot of soul searching on the subject. They were only a couple of months into their relationship. She was just trying to enjoy it while it progressed; not overanalyze it, not rush or force it. But now, with the first cracks showing, she couldn’t avoid facing her insecurities anymore. She couldn’t ignore the realities of what it meant to actually be in a relationship with Snape.

* * *

Snape barely slept since New Year’s Eve. If he wasn’t working on extra security plans or trying to analyze the evidence, he was tossing and turning, agonizing over the impending conversation with Hermione.

Mostly Snape feared losing control of his deepest, most personal secret. He knew Hermione probably wouldn’t react well and he hadn’t wanted the rest of society or her friends to know. _How_ did Harry know? When had he found out? It hadn’t really seemed to impact their working relationship, for better or worse, if he had known for awhile. Both men tended to avoid each other when they could, working together amicably when the occasion called for it. But the only other person Snape had ever told was Dumbledore, who had sworn to secrecy; although he didn’t put it past Dumbledore to break that promise for “the greater good.”

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes, turning onto his side in bed and punching the pillow a few times to reposition it under his head. He didn’t want to lie to Hermione, but this part of his past had been so deeply private, shrouded and protected from others for so long, that it was hard for him to admit to and openly talk about after all these years. He wanted to cling to the secret, he couldn’t bear to give it up and have the memories of his feelings for Lily change or lessen or disappear altogether. He worried that revealing the secret, being forced to talk about it, would change everything. Talking about it would make the pain of Lily’s rejection all too real. Oh he had known since he was a teenager that he and Lily would never be, but he had stored away the memories and neglected to face them. In the back of his mind there was still the comfort of having these memories tucked away. Talking about them would make the pain of Lily’s rejection all too real.

And what scared him even more was that he was beginning to realize that he might be in love with Hermione. It wasn’t just about finding relief from the sexual tension anymore. _She_ was replacing Lily in his heart; _she_ was becoming his best friend, or had already been for awhile now, he was coming to realize. He was finding it harder and harder to deny and the memory of what he saw in the Mirror of Erised only served to verify this revelation. But he was terrified of opening himself up to love. He didn’t want to lose her too. He didn’t want to be vulnerable. He didn’t want someone to have that kind of power over him.

* * *

“I want to know about you and Harry’s mum.” Hermione’s voice shook, her nerves on edge as she folded her arms across her chest, her body language defensive. Snape had come to her room, his legs feeling heavy, his feet like lead; he now understood the Muggle idiom “dragging your feet” after the walk to her room. She had been freezing him out in the last three days, barely looking at him, only mumbling when she was required to speak to him.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Everything I want to know everything.”

He held her gaze for a minute or two before lowering his and beginning to pace around the room. “Can you just ask more specific questions to get the information you want? It’s hard for me know where to begin.”

This request made her gawk at him. _There’s THAT much of a past he doesn’t know where to begin? Bloody hell._ She inwardly groaned and outwardly sighed.

“Fine. Is it true that you were in love with her?”

“Yes.” His face remained impassive as he continued to pace, her eyes following him back and forth across her room. The shock of having him so bluntly admit to it caught Hermione off guard. She expected him to continue dancing around the issue.

“Ok…so did you guys date?”

“No.”

He was going to make this difficult. Hermione thought of the expression her parents often used, this was going to be “like pulling teeth.” She tried to collect her thoughts.

“Did you sleep with her?”

He winced. “No.” He looked away, emotion bleeding from such a simple answer. Hermione was growing irritated with his one word answers and stubborn participation. “But something happened. You look guilty.”

“I don’t have anything to be guilty about.”

“So tell me why you winced and won’t look at me now?”

“Because this is hard for me to talk about, damnit!”

“Did you have any kind of romantic relationship, more than just friends?”

“We kissed. Once. That was it.” He was turned away from her now, his dark hair covering his face.

Her face softened just a little, not that he noticed. “Your first kiss?”

“Yes.” She barely heard his answer, his voice was so low and quiet.

“But she started dating-“

“Yes.”

“After you kissed or…?” She let the question linger in the open, ready to be interpreted in any way it needed to be.

“We kissed two years before.”

“So you must have been good friends?”

“She was my best friend,” again the answer came so softly she had to strain her ears to hear it.

A flicker of jealous reignited within Hermione at his admission.

“So everything you did to protect Harry, working as Dumbledore’s spy, it was for her?”

He merely looked at her in response, but his expression confirmed it.

“Did you ever tell her how you felt?”

He shook his head.

“But…you kissed…so did she have feelings for you? I mean, she must have.”

“It was the experimental teenage kiss. We were close friends. We were nervous and curious. I was fully invested. I doubt she was. To her, it was nothing more than practice with someone safe.”

“Are you still in love with her? I mean, gosh, it’s been over 20 years but somehow I get the feeling you are still.”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

His eyes flashed in anger before quickly evading her stare. He said nothing.

“Why are you being so difficult and secretive about this?” Her voice was rough.

He glared at her now. “I am a very private person. And just because we’ve dated for two months doesn’t mean I’m going to open up and spill all my secrets. Now I’m answering your questions, please forgive me if I resist turning into a puddle of emotions, I’d like to have some dignity left after this conversation.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Now her voice cracked, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I do, but I haven’t shared this with anyone except one other person and that was over 20 years ago. It’s hard to just come out and talk about it, after all this time.”

Silence fell between them, engulfing the room, as they both struggled with their own thoughts. She didn’t know what to say, what to ask. He, wanting so desperately to have the conversation over with, felt bad leaving, so he stayed, obstinately waiting for her to speak.

“I guess I just need time to deal with this. It’s a pretty big revelation and Harry is upset.” She said after a few minutes. She sat down on her sofa, grabbing a decorative pillow and holding it over her abdomen for comfort.

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know. He knows about you and his mum. And he knows about us. But I didn’t tell him.”

“I’m sorry you’re upset about this, but it’s unreasonable for you to think I don’t have some kind of past.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize for having feelings for her. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me, so I feel hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said faintly.

A bell chimed in the castle and Snape sighed. “I need to go meet with Hagrid.”

Hermione nodded, sniffing, and holding back tears. “Go.”

* * *

“Ma’am, this is officer Barber, he’ll be taking your report.”

The woman with salt and pepper hair nodded, patting her chest as she took a seat where the officer gestured. She crossed her ankles, her gray skirt falling around her calves. She wore an elegant fur coat, a strand of pearls, her hair curled into a 1920s bob.

“Now, Ms. Williams, yes?”

“Yes, Eleanor Williams.”

“Can you tell me what you saw on the night of December 31st. You were with your husband correct?”

“Yes, he will be in later today to give his report. He had a work meeting he couldn’t miss.”  
“What did you see that night?”

“We were going to see the fireworks and had to park about 7 or 8 blocks away from the park and walk. Anyway, we saw a young woman walking and she asked to join us because she was nervous to walk by herself. Then she shrieked and pointed across the street at two men coming out of a building. I recognized it as the asylum that’s attached to the hospital on the other block.”

“And what did the two men look like?”

“Well one was hunched over and seemed to be walking with a limp. He was wearing the hospital garb, you know, the one they put the patients in-“

“A hospital gown?”

“No, more like pajamas or scrubs. But not normal clothes. And no coat. And it was terribly cold that night.”

“Ok. Can you identify anything else about that man?”

“He had plain brown hair, it was a bit shabby, hanging around his ears, and stringy. Hollow cheekbones. He looked sick. And deranged. His mouth drooped and he was looking every which way like a crazed man.”

“Ok and what about the other man?”

He was tall and stern looking. Pale as well, but healthier, not as thin. He was wearing all black and had black shoulder length hair.”

“Ok, thanks ma’am. Frank? Let’s get a sketch artist in here.”

_**I'm worse at what I do best  
** _ _**And for this gift, I feel blessed  
** _ _**Our little group has always been  
** _ _**And always will until the end  
** _ __**...A Denial...**

* * *

**A/N #2-** I used Reddit & scifi Stack Exchange for research on possible theories regarding Dementors, the soul, Barty Crouch Jr. He doesn’t have a death date listed on Pottermore, which is significant. All of the history in this chapter comes from _Hogwarts: A History_ (ahem…Harry Potter wikia lol) I also had to look up how Dementors communicate. I guess there isn’t a specific answer given by JKR or on Pottermore, so it’s just theories & conjecture, but what I did find was that they CAN definitely communicate with humans because of references in the books and one theory speculated that maybe they could use Legilimency to plant ideas into someone’s mind as a way of communicating. It’s all very fascinating. So many great theories out there! 

**Thanks for all the favs, follows, reviews! **I know this story is turning out differently than most of you expected based on the first 10 chapters, so I thank you for continuing with me on this journey. Breathe. The next chapter is intense.****

****_Smells like Teen Spirit_ Howling Cover: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLW_3CH9ZWk> ** **


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very Important A/N-This chapter was really hard to write; emotionally & plot-wise. It’s been the chapter that’s weighed on my mind for over 5 months. I actually wrote 3 versions of it. It will touch on some very controversial & sensitive topics. I won’t get too graphic, but there will be a slight trigger warning near the end (it’s not rape). What I ask is that you please read through to the end before you decide on what to make of this chapter, it might not go how you think it will go. I really wanted to approach this topic with sensitivity & I wanted to bring up a discussion with multiple perspectives, with nuance & complexity. This story gets darker before the light comes. But the light will come, I promise.
> 
> Lyrics from 2 songs will be featured in this chapter (links to listen below). “Poison and Wine” by The Civil Wars (interwoven through the chapter) and “The Greatest Bastard” by Damien Rice (at the end). They’re in bold, italics.

“Hermione Granger.”

Hermione rose from the padded chair in the waiting room and walked briskly down the hallway. She was led into an examination room. She sat wringing her hands, waiting in agonizing silence, with only her mind to keep her company; her nagging, relentless thoughts to make her fidget and feel uncomfortable. _Solitary confinement, a prison._

An abrupt knock at the door startled Hermione out of her thoughts. A young woman entered, wearing a long white robe.

“Hello, Hermione,” the Mediwitch greeted warmly.

“Katie Bell?” Hermione answered in disbelief. Of course it was just Hermione’s luck to run into someone she knew.

Katie nodded, giving a small laugh. “Yeah, I decided I was either here or in the Hogwarts hospital enough that I ought to pursue a Mediwitch career. I’m still in my residency training but I’m almost done!”

“Right…” Hermione struggled to find something to say, still reeling in shock that out of all the Mediwitches at St. Mungo’s she’d be assigned to a former schoolmate. What an unlucky day.

“So, what can we do for you today?” Katie asked cheerfully, looking over a medical chart. She flipped a page over the clipboard, nodding her head as she skimmed over it.

“I uhh…I just need to refill my birth control prescription.” Hermione tugged on the sleeves of her flannel shirt, shifting in her seat.

“We can do that. Anything else?” Katie’s eyes flickered away from the clipboard where she was scribbling notes to Hermione’s face. She was leaning against the counter casually, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, her wand poking out of the pocket on her Mediwitch robe.

“I…was wondering if you had some kind of emergency contraceptive.” Hermione felt her cheeks start to burn.

Katie put the clipboard on the counter and folded her arms across her chest, looking at Hermione pointedly. “Yes, I can write a prescription for an emergency contraceptive. I will need to know how long it’s been since you had sex without contraception.”

Hermione hesitated. “Why? Does it matter?”

“Well there are a couple of emergency contraceptives we use based on how long it’s been and the probability that you’ve actually already conceived. It’s probably similar to Muggle medicine. So, say if it happened just last night then we have a very simple, generic potion, in fact I could just tell you the ingredients and I bet you could make it on your own for much cheaper and keep the extra around in case it happens again. If it’s longer than a few days then I suggest something else that I would need to write a prescription for. And…if you’re pushing four or more weeks then you’ll need a couple rounds of potion or more surgical methods.”

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap as she picked her finger nails. “It’s been thirteen days,” she answered, her voice soft and small. _The morning of New Years Eve, before everything came crashing down._ Hermione had noticed just the day before that her supply of contraception was finally out. They hadn’t used any form of protection; no spells, no potion, no Muggle protection. It was the only time in her life she hadn’t used some form of contraception. A thought had nagged at her as they rolled around in his bed, passionately kissing. But she had ignored it. The one time she threw caution to the wind, the one time she had been irresponsible.

Hermione had meant to address the issue sooner, but all the extra security shifts at Hogwarts and the meetings Snape had been organizing, it’d been nearly impossible to make an appointment at St. Mungo’s until now. She didn’t actually know if she was pregnant. Her periods had been off for months, since the epidemic. Sometimes they had only lasted a day or two. Her cycle changed during the epidemic as one period was over a week late. She assumed it was stress and poor health. She calculated that her period should have started a few days ago, but again, calculating her cycle wasn’t very reliable. It didn’t matter, she just wanted the equivalent of the “morning after pill” and to get out of there.

“Over a week, ok. Do you think you’re pregnant?”

Hermione shook her head but avoided Katie’s eyes.

“Have you missed a period?”

“My periods have been inconsistent for awhile.”

Katie began to shuffle around the room, opening up a cabinet pulling out a medical gown.

“I would like to run a diagnostic test over you. It’ll only take a minute or two. Then we can determine the best course of action once we know, ok?”

“I just wanted the contraception.”

“I know. But I think it’s important to be informed and know what’s going on. It’s St. Mungo’s policy anyway.”

Hermione opened her mouth but snapped it closed, giving up on arguing and taking the gown Katie was holding out to her.

“I’ll give you a minute to change,” Katie said quietly as she slipped out of the room.

Hermione sighed. This appointment was supposed be quick and easy. She changed out of her jeans and flannel button down shirt and into the loose fitting hospital gown, crawling up to the uncomfortable examination table, where she lay shivering, thankful that she had kept her socks on as her feet touched the silver metal of the table. _I can’t believe this is really happening to me._ She stared at the ceiling, her hands clammy.

Hermione avoided eye contact with Katie as her former schoolmate ran her wand over Hermione’s abdomen, back and forth, then pressed the tip of it to the soft flesh of Hermione’s lower abdomen. Katie tapped the tip of her wand into a stone bowl that resembled a Pensieve, but smaller.

“I’m going to take a blood sample too. It’ll only be just a prick,” Katie said gently. She took the blood sample back to the bowl and dropped it in; Hermione heard a sizzle and pushed up on her elbows to get a better view. Katie stared into the bowl for a minute before writing something in her clipboard and nodding.

“I’d prefer not to know the results,” Hermione laid flat on her back again.

“I’m not going to write a prescription until you know.”

“I think that’s ridiculous.”

“And I think it would be negligent of me if I didn’t inform you before you made your decision.”

Hermione sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the table. “Well I gather from this conversation that I am.” She hopped down from the examination table and slid a leg into her jeans, still wearing the hospital gown.

“Yes. 13 days exactly. Early still.”

Hermione struggled to keep her face impassive as she zipped and buttoned her jeans. “Ok.” She turned away from Katie as she slid the gown over her head and her flannel back over her shoulders, quickly buttoning up the shirt. _Pregnant after one night of unprotected sex. What a cliché. I’m a fucking statistic. The kind of story you tell to teenagers to scare them._

“Do you want to talk about-“

“No, I don’t have time. Sorry. Can I have the prescription please?”

“I’d like to go over the effects of taking this, just so you know what to expect. Now it’s still early, so there won’t be many side effects but I think it’s good to address them before you make your decision. And I advise you to discuss this decision with your partner as well…”

Hermione tuned her out, instead reviewing her schedule for the next couple of days.

“Hermione?”

“Huh? Oh yeah…thanks.” Hermione reached out and took the prescription from Katie.

“They’ll help you at the front desk.”

“Great. Thanks.” Grabbing her coat, Hermione hurried out of the room before Katie could say anything else, all but running down the hall. She had to wait another few minutes for the vial of emergency contraceptive. She sat, feeling itchy and restless, her legs bouncing and twitching with impatience.

The minute she was outside she breathed in the cold morning air, closing her eyes, and leaning against the building. _What a mess._ She didn’t want to think about the news, what was inside of her. _I can’t. I just can’t._ She felt nauseous. She was pregnant. _Pregnant._ Panic began to well up inside of her and she could feel an anxiety attack surfacing. _No, I can’t deal with this right now. I have too much to do._ She pushed the shock from her mind. She’d deal with it later. Right now she needed to accomplish her second errand in Diagon Alley and get back to Hogwarts.

* * *

She opened the large doors as a gust of wind rustled the dead leaves on the street. Stepping inside she pressed her hands to her mouth, blowing hot air on them to warm them up. The goblins didn’t pay any attention to her, but continued their work at a slow pace. She looked around but couldn’t find who she was looking for.

“Excuse me?” she asked, cautiously approaching one of the desks. “I’m looking for Draco Malfoy. Does he still work here?”

A goblin gave her an impatient look, huffing in annoyance as he put down his quill. “He does. He has a private office now, along that wall over there,” the goblin pointed to the adjacent wall and Hermione quickly thanked him, scurrying away.

Glancing into the offices she passed, she finally saw Draco’s blonde head bent over his desk, a frown on his lips, as he read over a document. She knocked lightly, standing in the open doorway.

“Come in,” he grumbled without looking up.

“Hi Draco,” her soft tone drifted across the room.

His head snapped up, eyes large with shock, mouth gaping.

“It’s been awhile,” she continued casually, like they had been friends. “Mind if I close the door?”

He sat up straight, collecting himself, his eyes and lips resuming that trace of disgust he had worn around her so often growing up.

“Fine. What do you want, Granger?”

Closing the door behind her quietly she sat in the guest chair, eliciting a grimace from him. “I saw you with Theodore Nott before Christmas,” she paused, trying to choose her words carefully.

“So?” He looked her up and down.

“I don’t know the context of your conversation but I overheard a bit of it. I know that Barty Crouch Jr. is still alive. And I know Dementors have been more active lately.”

Draco paled. Despite what Hermione assumed, he hadn’t known about Barty Crouch Jr. or the Dementors. He hadn’t been in contact with Theodore since before Christmas.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Granger.”

She regarded him with sad, desperate eyes. “ _Something_ is happening Draco. And while we thought the epidemic last year was some kind of freakish accident, I’m beginning to think it was manmade and intentional. We _will_ figure out what’s going on and we _will_ put up a fight.”

“Who is we?” he spat out, guessing she meant Harry and Ron.

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. I need to get back to Hogwarts. I just came here to tell you that I get the sense that you don’t want to be involved in anything Theodore might be up to, whatever he was or is trying to coerce you into, but others won’t see it that way unless you come forward and are vocal about it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She stood up looking down at him with conviction. “What I’m saying is you have a chance to take a stand this time around. You have the chance to do some good this time. Don’t take that opportunity for granted.” She searched his eyes, pleadingly.

His eyes drifted from hers back down to the paperwork in front of him on the desk.

“The point is,” she paused, her eyes flitting across his desk, looking at nothing in particular, “I could tell that day, when I saw you with him, that you weren’t comfortable. You weren’t indifferent, you were visibly shaken. I believe the best of you, despite our past, despite what other may still believe. Come find Snape or me when you decide.”

His eyes followed her across the room as she made her way out. He tapped the point of his quill against the wood of mahogany wood of his desk. _Tap, tap, tap;_ a metronome for his thought process, giving his hand something to do while he mulled.

Draco continued to stare at the doorway long after she left, his conscience weighing heavily, interrupting the quiet banality to which he was accustomed.

* * *

Hermione stared at the vial, rolling it between her fingers, watching the deep purple liquid slowly move around the glass, coating the sides. She bit her bottom lip, deep in thought as she sat on the edge of her bed that evening. It had been in her possession for nearly 12 hours now, time was ticking away. Katie had said that in another couple of weeks a different potion, a _stronger_ potion, would be required. She thought she had been absolutely positive about her decision when she had shown up at St. Mungo’s for her appointment. She had been so determined, and she was finding that ignorance really _was_ bliss.

_Don’t think about it, Hermione. It’ll make the decision harder. Just do it and get it over with._

Her heart fluttered at her own thoughts, a surreal feeling overwhelming her, like an out of body experience. She had _never_ encouraged herself to avoid analyzing a problem. Mulling over a problem was _her thing._ She solved problems, not avoided them. But then again, the emergency contraceptive was supposed to be the solution.

 _I can’t have a kid right now.  
_ _I don’t want a kid right now._

Her thoughts justified any ill feelings she felt about taking the contraception. But in the back of her mind a debate raged. Inner turmoil tore at her heart. Her mind felt like it was caught in a whirlwind of emotion and logic, both trying to overpower each other. She tried to push the conflicted feelings into the deep recesses of her mind, but the debate refused to relent.

_I don’t know what I want._

So she turned her mind towards what she assumed he would think; assumptions just waiting to burst forth and, hopefully, help justify her decision. But it only led to more agitation and guilt.

 _He won’t want kids._ In her mind she laughed bitterly, conjuring up an image of Snape after she told him she accidentally got pregnant. She imagined pure disgust. But then her imagination betrayed her and she remembered Teddy leaning against Snape at Christmas; Snape wrapping his arm around the boy, hesitantly and carefully, as Teddy slept. The subdued, peaceful expression on Snape’s face as Teddy continued to nap for nearly an hour.

_Would he?_

She actually had no idea how he felt about getting married someday, or having kids. They had never broached the subject, except when she had told him she wasn’t ready to get married or have kids when Oliver asked her. And she still felt the same way. Marriage, someday? Probably. Kids, someday? _Maybe._ Except that kids never seemed to like her. _I wouldn’t make a good mother, even if I wanted kids._

She sighed, her shoulders drooping. The bones in her body felt like they were getting crushed by the weight of this decision. Checking the time, she left the vial on the nightstand. She was scheduled for the late night security rounds. _I’ll think about it later._ _Tomorrow. Day 14, two weeks_.

* * *

This was the Order of the Thunderbird’s second meeting. Ginny had recommended the name. The Thunderbird was related to the Phoenix; highly intuitive and sensitive to danger and possesses rejuvenation qualities, birth and rebirth cycles like the Phoenix. And while native to the United States, rather than Great Britain, nearly everyone agreed that they didn’t wish to resurrect the Order of the Phoenix name and it was decided this would be the new Order.

The first meeting had been two days after the New Year’s incident in London, which involved Tonks and Ron getting the group up to speed on the events and beginning to sort out details that connected the epidemic and Azkaban breakout to recent events. Snape was hesitant for the group to be larger than seven or eight, but Harry and Tonks had gently urged for it to be a larger group with more eyes and ears open to information. So in this second meeting that Snape had arranged within the sanctuary of his office at Hogwarts, a group of 14 sat, cups of tea rattling against porcelain china saucers.

Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Snape all gave updates on security in London, Azkaban, and Hogwarts respectively. They debated whether or not to include other Hogwarts professors, particularly Vector and Keighly as members of the Order, but at Snape’s insistance they eventually decided not to extend an invitation to either of the professors. Vector, in particular, as 3rd in command, needed to be at the school at all times if Snape and Hermione were engaged elsewhere. Snape promised to pass along pertinent information to Vector if need be, but the less people knew, the more secure the Order.

“Should I take some extra Auror shifts, like Harry?” Neville’s voice faltered, trepidation evident in his eyes. Luna reached over and squeezed his hand. Teaching suited Neville much more than Auror work ever had, and everyone noted how relaxed and jovial he seemed since taking the position at Hogwarts.

“Not right now,” Tonks sent him a kind look. “Maybe a shift on the weekends every now and then in the future if need be, but for now Ron and I have worked out a pretty decent shift schedule. Actually,” she reached down into her gray knapsack, pulling out a manila folder, “I brought copies of the schedule, one for each of you, so you always know who is on duty and their location. It’s charmed,” she added, shooting a stern glance at Hermione who had already opened her mouth to voice her concerns, “so in order to view it unfold it, point your wand and say “revelabo Thunderbird” and just fold it in half to conceal it again. I have the master copy so if there’s any schedule changes yours will reflect that in real time. Everyone can thank Bill for this specific charm. He worked on it for a week to make it successful.”

Ron clapped his oldest brother on the back, giving him a proud grin. Harry paced the room most of the meeting, rubbing at his forehead out of habit. Ginny’s eyes followed his movements as Bill and George discussed ways they would keep their ears open in Diagon Alley, promising to keep tabs on Draco in particular.

“I talked to Draco.” Eyes shot to Hermione’s face, a mixture of shock and horror. “Yesterday,” she lifted her chin in an effort to appear confident in her decision as everyone continued to stare at her like she had grown a second head.

“ _Why_?” Harry demanded, a look of disgust distorting his features.

“I told him that I believed he could make a difference this time around. That I saw him in Diagon Alley and that I could tell he was upset with Nott.”

“Did you overhear something specific between them?” Luna’s tranquil voice alleviated some of the tension that hung in the air.

“Theo seemed to be threatening Draco, albeit subtly. And Draco was visibly unsettled. I think he could be swayed to help us out.”

Harry sighed dramatically, veins popping out of his neck. “Oh if we could _only_ trust him!”

Hermione winced, expecting the conversation to go this way. “I told him to get in contact with either Severus or myself if he decides to help us out. Most likely he’ll go to Severus, I hope that’s ok?” She turned to Snape, looking a bit guilty for not telling him about her visit to Draco before the meeting.

“It is.”

Harry sighed in agitation as a brief lull in the conversation occurred.

“Someone with inside knowledge could be useful,” Ginny nodded. When she could see Harry’s face scrunch up in irritation she gently added, “it was absolutely necessary last time.” She gave her husband a pointed look. Snape shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I think what Hermione did was just right,” McGonagall finally spoke up. “She left the decision entirely up to Draco. She didn’t coerece or threaten him. She merely reached out and gave him the pertinent information. If he does make the decision to help us it will be of his own volition. We can only hope that Draco will learn from his parent’s mistakes.”

“Hopefully,” Molly replied, stiffly, staring at the teacup she gripped between both hands, slight indignation at the news of Hermione’s visit etched across her face. It was hard to forgive and forget long standing rivalries.

Their conversation continued for another ten minutes as they switched topics to focus on the Barty Crouch Jr. situation. Snape relayed to the group everything Dilys had told them about her experience with Dementors and The Kiss at St. Mungo’s. Shacklebolt promised to look into the records to see what he could find.

“Does the Muggle government suspect wizards were behind the London attack?” Angelina asked.

“The Muggle government isn’t happy at all. The Prime Minister is accusing us, but at this point they don’t have much evidence to blame the Wizarding Community,” Tonks added. “They have no idea their patient that they just called ‘John Doe’ was a wizard. And they couldn’t see the Dementor, so as horrific as the event was, at least at this point they can’t necessarily trace it back to us, which gives us more time to solve the problem on our own.”

Snape glanced down at the time table he had by his teacup. “I must interrupt our meeting now, as I have a meeting with another professor. Thank you all for your time and vigilance.”

Everyone cleared their paperwork and headed to the fireplace to floo out and back to the Ministry. Hermione hung back, helping reorganize Snape’s office. “Doone?” she asked and when Snape gave her a questioning glance she clarified “your meeting is with Professor Doone?”

“Yes,” Snape rolled his eyes. “I can only guess what he wants to complain about this time.”

Hermione chuckled. She was just about to open the door when they heard a knock. “Perfect timing. Have fun,” she said over her shoulder, before swinging open the door and admitting the old, white haired, professor into Snape’s office.

She smirked again as she descended the stairs, until she remembered the vial sitting on her nightstand.

* * *

 **_You only know what I want you to  
_ ** **_I know everything you don’t want me to_ **

The tension between Hermione and Snape had finally started to melt away. They hadn’t shared a bed since December 31, but they had dined together in his private rooms once since their fight about keeping Lily a secret. They both seemed to be trying to resurrect the simplicity and harmony of the past. Today Snape was joining her in her rooms for their Headmaster-Deputy meeting. She stood in her kitchenette, preparing tea and the muffins she baked, trying to add a more personal touch to their meeting instead of relying on the house elves to serve them food.

She hadn’t decided when she was going to tell him about the pregnancy, or _if_ she would even tell him at all. Her conscience warned her that she better tell him, but the devil on her shoulder, or at least what she liked to imagine as a devil, told her it was better to keep it a secret, it would be less complicated that way.

He entered silently, as was his usual style, and with her back to him she could have been easily startled, but she had learned to listen for the minutest of sounds, the soft rustle of his robe, and therefore knew of his arrival. 

“Good morning,” her voice was rich and deep from not having used it yet that day.

“Morning,” he replied. They sat around her table, she poured his tea, he asked about her classes, they eyed each other cautiously.

“These are very good muffins,” he complimented after finishing half of his.

“Thank you,” she smiled appreciatively. “Have you finished _Crime and Punishment_?

“Not yet, I have a few chapters left.” He gave her a tight lipped smile.

They turned their attention to business, since neither one of them found small talk appealing. Soon the cups and dishes were moved to the kitchenette counter and timetable schedules, class rosters, and faculty vacation days were spread across her table as they both scribbled notes. They worked in tandem, forgetting the personal strain between them.

“Do you have your copy of the Auror schedule that Tonks handed out? I left mine in my rooms.”

“I do, it’s on my nightstand,” she gestured with her chin, nodding it in the direction of the nightstand. She was currently trying to work out a weekend schedule that allowed for Cassiopeia Uhuru to attend an Astronomy conference in the United States, giving Bertram Doone the Sunday off to visit his granddaughter who had just had a baby, and make up for Harry’s absence as he served a double Auror shift. She scratched her head, ruffling her curls, as she worked out the details.

“Hermione, what’s this?” his voice stern.

Hermione did a double take at where his eyes focused on her nightstand, then turned away from him, biting her bottom lip. _Fuck._ Her heart felt like it was plunging into her abdomen. She had forgotten she left the emergency contraception there. It was still full. She hadn’t taken it yet. Everytime she tried, something unknown to her made her pause.

“It’s nothing,” she answered, a bit too stiffly. It didn’t matter, the vial was already in his hand; he was already reading the label along the side.

“Are you pregnant?”

Hermione froze for a fraction of a second, then shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a precaution. I ran out of birth control right before New Years.”

“This is not just birth control.” His voice was low and controlled. She continued to avoid his gaze and the topic, instead riffling through some papers on her desk, pretending to be intensely preoccupied with looking for something. “Hermione, look at me.” He was watching her carefully, reading her body language.

She sighed and stood up straight, her eyes defiant and fiery. She felt stripped bare and naked in front of him. It felt like his eyes were searching her soul.

“That’s not fair. If you’re using Legilimency on me-“

“I’m not.” He folded his arms across his chest. “How far along are you?” His eyes drifted to her abdomen.

“17 days.”

He dragged his eyes back up to hers. “Were you going to tell me at some point?”

She tried to think of a response, but her mind was so jumbled at this point that it was hard to form a coherent, even simple, answer. Should she tell the truth? Lie? He would see through her lie right? Should she just open herself up and be honest with him, tell him about her fears, her insecurities, her confusion?

Her silence was deafening and answered for her.

“I see,” he said, his eyes darkening.

“No, it’s not like that.”

He turned away from her, swallowing hard. A flood of emotions overwhelmed and flustered him. He needed to think clearly, but he couldn’t. _Center yourself, Severus_ , he bid himself. _Close your mind_. He brought up his Occlumency shields, but found it hard to strengthen them. His emotions, emotions he didn’t understand, were too strong. It had been _decades_ since he felt this disconcerted. He cursed himself for being weak.

“Do you not want children? Or you just don’t want children with me?” His blunt questions hung in the air, surprising even him. The years of self-control and practiced speech during intense situations with Voldemort and the Death Eaters were failing him. _This is what loving a woman will do to you. This is why it isn’t safe to love._

“It’s not like that!” she repeated louder, more passionate this time.

“Did you even think about asking me what I thought about the situation?” He turned back towards her now, his eyes piercing hers.

Something snapped within her, awakening her ire, baiting her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Sarcasm clung to her words. “Did you really think it was a good time for me to be pregnant with everything going on? Uh yeah, sure let’s have a baby, gee what a great idea! It’ll only grow up in the middle of chaos and terror! Or a war! No big deal!” She began to pace, her eyes wild as her voice rose in volume and pitch.

“Oh but maybe it’ll be an orphan when we both get killed by Barty Crouch Jr. on the loose! That’ll be a great life for a child. But even if things weren’t this shitty it’s not like you and I are in a good spot right now either. You don’t trust me enough to talk to me about your past! We haven’t been dating that long. And I figured you wouldn’t ever want kids anyway. Can you even imagine the two of us, as parents?! We would _ruin_ the kid!”

He blinked a few times, frozen as he stood there watching her closely, her words washing over him, piercing him. The air left his body, a blow to his chest, crushing his lungs. His eyes didn’t well up with tears; instead they stung from a lack of moisture as he stared at her with an imperceivable expression. Then he began to tremble, panting like he had just completed a marathon. She shifted nervously under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“You have no idea what I want,” he growled. “You’re only thinking of yourself.”

She stepped back in shock, speechless. She hadn’t thought he’d respond like that. Her mouth felt dry, her head throbbed. 

“You don’t have any right to dictate what I do in my life. I have to take care of myself. I have to do what’s best for me.” She stared daggers at him, her voice proud, her chest rising and falling in fury.

“You maddening woman!” He bellowed, grabbing the sides of his head and storming around the room. “Did it ever occur to you that this is a weighty decision?! There are repercussions. For you, there could be physical effects that may require medical attention!

“I am aware that this is a complicated situation. I’m not being flippant about it!”

“You weren’t even going to tell me, were you? Before or after the fact! Come now, don’t hide your face now when you’ve never shied away from sticking your nose in the air and raising your chin in defiance before!”

“Stop talking to me like that, Severus! I was looking out for us! I don’t want to tie you down with a child and you know what, I was afraid of how you would react, and this,” she waved her arm back and forth between them frantically, “obviously proves that I was right, telling you would be a bad idea.”

“I deserve the right to know, damnit! This should not just be your decision if I’m the one to get you pregnant! You were deliberately not going to tell me and make the decision on your own, which is infuriating!”

“ _I’m_ the one that has to be pregnant! _I’m_ the one that will have to give birth! And with how emotionally distant you are _I’d_ probably have to be the one to raise the kid!”

He turned away, ready to storm out.

“No, don’t! Stop! You always go and hide! This is part of the problem! You can’t just leave and be closed off whenever you want! You don’t face things! You’re a coward!”

The accusation leapt out of her mouth before she could censor it.

“I am not a coward!” he roared at her, his eyes violent. “You know nothing! You presumptuous, self-righteous, judgmental, narrow-minded, condescending woman! How dare you throw such an uninformed condemnation in my face!”

“Are you done with your list yet? Or should I get my quill and some parchment so we can make sure we don’t forget anything?!”

He shot her a dirty look and resumed his pacing, clenching his fingers into a fist.

“Stop hiding from me,” she lowered her voice, no longer shouting. “Stop hiding behind a veneer of stoicism and emotional detachment and finally move on. You’re stuck in the past with someone who died over 20 years ago. You’re a stubborn-“

“Don’t accuse me of something of which you are equally guilty.”

“ _What_?”

“You’re just as stubborn as I am.”

She slammed her mouth shut, glaring at him. His eyebrows pinched together, the crease between his eyes deepening; he clenched his jaw as he stared back at her.

“I want you to leave.” She sniffed, holding the back of her right hand against her left cheek, like a sponge soaking up the tears that stained her cheek.

He looked at her incredulously.

“I’m serious. I have a headache and have a meeting with the Gryffindor Prefects and Head Boy and Girl in an hour.”

“You just accused me of being a coward for trying to leave,” his tone was cutting.

“Well I changed my mind!”

He shot her a menacing glare before stomping over to the fireplace and grabbing a fistful of floo powder. He threw it in, some of it hitting the back of the fireplace and shooting out across her floor before disappearing in a whoosh and green flash.

 **_Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine.  
_ ** **_You think your dreams the same as mine._ **

* * *

He flew past the Headmaster portraits as he made his from his office to his private rooms, causing them to open their eyes from their feigned sleep and cast worried glances at each other across the room. He had lost focus and returned to his office instead of through the fireplace in his bedroom. He knew his behavior wasn’t the slightest bit professional but he absolutely didn’t care at that moment.

Once inside his rooms he kicked the chair at his personal writing desk. The force sent it tumbling across the room, clattering along the way. He didn’t care. He paced around his room, taking long strides.

 _She wasn’t even going to tell me! I don’t even have a say in the matter!_ His fist crashed into the stone wall, his knuckles tearing through the skin. _Everything in my life happens at the hands of others!_ His hand assaulted the wall again, this time blood started to stream down his hand.

 _You wouldn’t be a good father._ His inner demons antagonized him. _Look at you, hitting the wall in rage, just like your own father would do.  
__But I wouldn’t hurt or neglect my child,_ he fought back with conviction.  
_But she’s right, you know. Did you even want a kid? A child after two months of a relationship?_

“Shut up!!!” he cried out loud at the internal dialogue that plagued him mercilessly.

He had opened his proverbial closet and the skeletons were clamoring to the floor around his feet.

_She says I’m emotionally distant! This is why I’m emotionally distant! This is what happens when you open yourself up and are vulnerable. You get hurt. You stupid, foolish man, you should never have let yourself get to the point where you cared this much. It’s only ever been used against you._

He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not paying any attention to the blood oozing out of his right hand. _You need to fucking calm yourself, Severus. You’re out of practice with your Occlumency. It’s high time you got back into that habit and stopped reacting to everything so emotionally._

* * *

She was staring down at him, wiping wet strands of his black hair away from his eyes, off his clammy forehead.

“Hermione, no,” he whimpered, gasping for air.

“Shhhhh, it’s going to be ok,” she whispered, leaning over him, her damp curls falling around his ears, curtaining their faces. Her gaze was intense, confident and loving.

“You have go,” his voice cracked. He winced and twitched again.

She shook her head. “No. We’re in this together. I didn’t abandon you last time and I’m not doing it this time.”

He coughed, mucus and blood mixed in the back of his throat. Someone was yelling behind them. A green fog had descended around them. Hermione shivered but she didn’t feel cold.

“Go. You can’t always be saving me,” he bid her.

“I’m not trying to save you. I’m just trying to love you.”

Snape’s expression softened; a spark of hope and innocence, wonder and gentleness replaced the callous, guarded expression his eyes often held. Hermione relaxed into a smile, her own eyes heavy lidded and affectionate. She leaned down to kiss his lips, to feel the warmth of his flesh, to convey in very real terms her love for him.

But a jolt of pain hindered her; her pulse beginning to race, her muscles tense in response to the electricity that burned her pain receptors. She felt like she was both on fire and being ripped in half. Her mouth hung open, twisted and stiff; a scream that bore no sound.

Hermione rolled over in bed, moaning, somewhat lucid. She could tell it was a dream and yet couldn’t escape the splitting pain in her abdomen. She rolled over again, drool coating the corner of her mouth and pillow as she curled into a ball, trying to find relief from the pain.

She groaned, the guttural sound seemed foreign to her ears, as if it came from another source. As she became more aware she realized her little beads of sweat had formed around her hairline. The pain increased, stabbing through her lower abdomen. She stifled a shriek, pushing her face into the pillow. At their worst, the stabs of pain made her immobile, her muscles tensing, her breath hitching. Tears flowed and her stomach revolted, acidic bile rising in her esophagus, for her stomach had no actual contents to expel. She mumbled incoherently.

Eventually she would make it to the bathroom and see the blood. She hiccupped, sliding down the wall, the stone floor cold against her bum. She couldn’t stand though, the mixture of pain and dizziness prevented her. She sobbed uncontrollably. She scolded herself for getting so defensive with Snape and for asking him to leave, for dismissing his input, _his_ feelings. She scolded herself for lashing out at him, for keeping secrets, for her quick tongue. She felt pitiful. 

Her vision blurred, her body trembling. Fear crippled her. _Make the pain stop,_ she pleaded to an unknown source. _Please make it stop._ She rocked back and forth in an effort to soothe herself. Her body continued to revolt, contracting in more ways than one.

She began to heave. She felt so alone, she thought about summoning her wand and sending a message for help. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to cast her Patronus. Her mind was only filled with desolation and anguish at the moment.

Finally the pain began to subside and she was able to crawl to her bathroom counter and retrieve a pain relieving potion. She slowly stood up, gripping the counter for support, her body shaking. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down, refilling it and sipped it slower this time. She stared at the vial full of purple potion on her counter. It had been a week since her appointment at St. Mungo’s.

She figured she should eat something small, her stomach felt like it was on fire, burning with only acid sitting in it. She shuffled into the kitchenette and grabbed a muffin, trying to restrain herself from swallowing it whole, chewing methodically so it was easier for her stomach to digest. Finally she stepped into the shower to clean herself. The process of miscarrying would go on for at least another few hours, maybe even days, but at least she felt somewhat better after soaking under the hot water, cleaning her bloodied sheets, and climbing back in bed. At that point she figured she should send a message to someone on staff. She didn’t have any faculty obligations until her rounds that Sunday evening. But who should she contact? She finally decided on Vector, explaining her absence as a headcold. Vector offered to cover Hermione’s rounds, and while Hermione didn’t want to appear weak, she gratefully accepted, knowing her body would need all the rest she could get.

She laid in bed the rest of the day, trying to read, but unable to calm her mind down. It transitioned from emotion to emotion before she could work through each feeling. Anger morphed into fear, then into panic, sadness followed, confusion, and then relief that she didn’t have to make the decision anymore. Guilt about feeling relieved set in, heavy and oppressive.

She wondered where Snape was at that moment, what he was doing, how he would respond if she sent for him. She needed him, but she refused to go to him, to ask for his comfort, to appear weak and vulnerable after their fight.

She cried herself to sleep, hugging her knees to her chest tightly.

 **_I wish you’d hold me when I turn my back  
_ ** _Your hands can heal, your hands can bruise  
_ _I don’t have a choice, I’d still choose you._

* * *

Snape’s eyes were bloodshot, sunken with dark circles. His hair lay limp and greasier than usual, completing the haggrid look. His hand, now wrapped with bandage around his knuckles, throbbed from hitting the wall. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours in two days. He had been trying to avoid everyone for the last 48 hours.

“Severus? Can I come in?” he heard Hermione call through the floo network. When he didn’t answer she sighed. “Please?” she asked with more urgency.

“Yes,” he croaked, wondering if she’d even hear his answer.

He remained seated at the desk in his private room. He had been staring out the window, at nothing in particular but the gray winter sky matched his mood and he found solace in it.

“I wanted to give you this.” He looked at her outstretched hand warily; whatever she was holding wasn’t visible. He didn’t want to comply but he knew she wouldn’t leave until he gave in and ultimately his curiosity got the best of him. He held his hand out to her, avoiding her eyes.

She pressed something smooth and warm into his hand. He looked down at his open palm, with a mixture of confusion and surprise. The vial of the emergency contraception was completely unused. He turned it over in his hand, watching the liquid slowly run down the sides of the glass.

“I don’t need it anymore.”

He dragged his eyes from the vial up to meet her eyes. She looked as bad as he felt, her curls were ratted, her face colorless, her eyes glazed over. He didn’t know what to say, what to ask; his mind was blank. She seemed to understand.

“I miscarried. Yesterday.”

His jaw slackened. _Say something, you stupid man._ “I…”

She shook her head, a quick, rigid back and forth motion, her lips pressed together tightly. “No, you don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know I didn’t use it. I…couldn’t make a decision…and then I didn’t need to.”

He looked back down at the vial again, his eyes large and forlorn.

“Listen,” her voice was more nervous now, “I’m sorry for the hurtful things I said to you. I was a jerk.”

He looked at her again, silently taking in her features; her soft, delicate eyelashes, the honey-coloured flecks that livened up her brown eyes, the curve of her jaw, skin so smooth he wanted to reach out and caress it. But he didn’t. He remained silent. And so she continued, dropping her eyes from his and studying her hands.

“I need…some time. Obviously we’ll need to continue on in a working relationship for the sake of unity and the school-“

“You want to discontinue our romantic relationship,” he cut her off. He couldn’t bear to hear her say it; it didn’t hurt as bad if the words came out of his mouth instead.

She just stared at him, but the confirmation was apparent in her eyes. “I just…”

“I understand.”

She paused, taken aback. “Ok,” she responded quietly. She turned to leave.

“Are you sure? That you miscarried?”

“Yes. I’m sure…I did some research in the library on magical pregnancy tests. I’ve checked three times.”

A pained look crossed his eyes, his forehead creasing ever so slightly, before his eyes became guarded once more. She didn’t ask about it. She couldn’t deal with another round of emotional discourse.

She haphazardly tossed floo powder into the fireplace, feeling rotten and exhausted. This was going to be a long semester.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, sounding broken and weak. But she was already gone. And he was alone, trying to deaden the sorrow he felt.

 **_Am I the greatest bastard that you know?  
_ ** **_The one you hurt so much you cannot bear?  
_ ** **_Well, we were good, when we were good, when we were not misunderstood.  
_ ** **_Some make it, mistake it, some force and some will fake it  
_ ** **_I never meant to let you down…  
_ ** **_Letting go is not the same as pushing someone else away  
_ ** **_Please don’t let on you don’t love me, cause I know you do  
_ ** **_Some make it, mistake it, some force and some will fake it  
_ ** _Some fret it, forget it, some ruin and some regret it.  
_ _I never meant to let you down_

* * *

**Thank you for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I want to get another 2, maybe 3, chapters out by the new year.**

_**Poison and Wine** _ **by The Civil Wars  
<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNlxKH9Jtmc>**

 

_**The Greatest Bastard** _ **by Damien Rice**   
<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_CruddPIVQ>   



	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaack! Sorry for the delay, I’ve been distracted by Star Wars: The Last Jedi! Any of my readers Star Wars fans too? I’ve been a Reylo shipper since December 2015 and if any of you are into Reylo fanfiction I started a new story this week for that fandom called Spectrum. Don’t worry, I won’t abandon this story. We’re definitely in Act III, the final act, now!

“Is it just me or does Hermione seem depressed again?” Ron asked, scratching the back of his head.

Harry grunted as he leaned over his plate of spaghetti, the noodles dangling from his mouth as he attempted to shovel them in without slurping. Ginny gave her husband a faintly amused look from across the table.

“Yeah, kinda like last year,” Harry said, wiping his mouth with his napkin as he straightened his back again.

“I dunno what’s gotten into her,” Ron said, twirling his spaghetti on his fork and looking at it with a puzzled expression. “It’s like one minute she’s sad, the next happy, then angry, then absent and we don’t see much of her for awhile, then sad again.”

Ginny internalized Ron’s confusion, silently agreeing with him, of course knowing more of the situation than either of the guys knew. She had made dinner for the two most important men in her life, the three of them catching up after busy weeks with their Auror and teaching positions. Ginny observed her husband’s reaction, trying to gauge if he knew anything specific since he saw Hermione nearly every day at Hogwarts. But she also knew her husband had been avoiding contact with Hermione since finding out about Hermione and Snape’s relationship.

“Don’t ask me, she’s more a mystery now than she’s ever been,” he answered, his eyes darkening and his voice gruff; even Ron shot him a questioning look, noticing Harry’s odd response.

“Hmm…I’ll see what I can find out,” Ginny interjected, pulling her piece of garlic bread in half and staring at it thoughtfully.

“Anyway, what’s new with you, sis?” Ron gulped his milk loudly, a thunking sound audible as the milk rushed down his esophagus while he stared at his baby sister. “How’s the new job?” He wiped the milk from the top of his lip.

“It’s good. Different enough but the same in other ways,” Ginny responded, picking at her garlic bread.

“So is _The Daily Prophet_ going to send you to cover Quidditch matches in other countries?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But I’m not the only sports writer so I’ll probably have to share the coverage.” She inhaled deeply. “But it’s good to be working again, although I have to say my writing skills definitely need some fine tuning after all these years.” She laughed and Harry smiled at her in return. He was glad to see the sparkle and light back in her eyes.

“Oh that’s the worst part,” Ron bellowed, his mouth full of food, “I hate writing reports. I got into the Auror job for the action.” He grinned and raised his eyebrows at Harry.

“Ron, could you finishing chewing your food before you speak? It’s gross,” Ginny looked at him with mild disgust.

“Now you sound like mum,” her brother replied, a fresh bite of food threatening to fall out of his mouth. Ginny rolled her eyes and popped another piece of bread into her mouth, shaking her head at the guys.

* * *

Snape caught up with Hermione in the hall, as students milled around them. Hermione’s pace was brisk, her eyes tired, her expression stoic. He reached out to touch her elbow lightly, hidden underneath her black teaching robe, hoping he wouldn’t startle her. He suspected that if her mood matched her expression that startling her would be a quick way to get hit in the face.

She did jump at his touch, but luckily for him, no punches were thrown in response.

“ _What?_ ” she gasped at his touch, pulling her arm away quickly. Her eyes were guarded, her body language defensive and hostile. It unsettled him.

Standing near a window soft golden light shone on them, bringing out the natural honey blonde highlights in her hair. He inhaled sharply. Despite everything she’d been through in the last week, the wear and tear, he found her delicate and beautiful in that moment. His heart ached.

He bent his head close to her ear, his black eyes roaming over the students passing in the hallway. “Have you been able to talk to someone about…you know? Do you need any medical care?”

She shook her head, irritation evident across her features. “No, I’m fine.” She pulled away from him even more.

 _She’s lying,_ his intuition told him. Using only the most subtle and cautious Legilimency skills, he brushed against her mind softly, sensitively. His intuition confirmed, he continued to pursue her as she had already begun walking away. Reaching out again, she pulled away dramatically this time, shooting him an angry glance over her shoulder. 

“I said _I’m fine_ ,” she hissed.

He persisted, her façade evident now, following her down the hallway. The hallway began to clear, classes were starting soon.

“Hermione, you should talk to someone,” he insisted, trying to make his voice gentle. She wouldn’t look at him, but kept her pace.

As she rounded the door to the Potions classroom she turned abruptly, facing him head on now. “About what?” she shrugged nonchalantly and gave him a fake half smile, before turning sharply on her heel into the classroom filled with students, the door shutting him out.

* * *

 _“I’m not fine.”_ Snape thought sullenly as he sat in his office later that day. Gods, he missed Hermione more than he thought possible.

He found himself thinking about the pregnancy and miscarriage a startling amount. He’d never considered _wanting_ a child, let along actually _having_ one; but the fact that they had conceived and lost made him aware of feelings and desires that apparently laid dormant all these years. He wondered what it would have been like to hold an infant in his arms, to lay its head on his chest and comfort the child, _his_ child. Would it have been a boy or a girl? He could have taught him or her its first spell, how to fly on a broom, showed them his collection of potions ingredients sitting in jars: frog eyes, rat tails, pig ears, goblin’s finger nails.

He often found himself unable to focus on his work. He sat listlessly for hours, staring off into the distance, his mind constantly replaying the stream of his most painful memories: his father’s anger, the Marauder’s bullying, fighting with Lily, losing Lily, fighting with Hermione, losing Hermione. He felt so alone in his grief, but there was no one to talk to even if he wanted to; McGonagall was the only other person he _might_ trust enough and she didn’t know about his relationship with Hermione. And the subject matter was so delicate. He knew well enough that women, especially in the Wizard community, didn’t often discuss pregnancy losses; men certainly didn’t discuss such a thing. The topic was taboo and witches were expected to be as fertile as Molly Weasley or keep their problems secret, silently bearing what society had deemed shameful. No, there was no one he could talk to. For once in his life he wished he actually had a confidant.

Food tasted bland, sleep deserted him, his memories tormented him. Once again, he would gladly welcome death.

* * *

Ginny made multiple attempts to get in touch with Hermione, but Hermione either had work-related excuses or flat out ignored Ginny.

Ginny sighed. Her free time was limited now that she was working for the _Daily Prophet_. Plus, the job gave her a chance to keep an eye on Pansy, since Pansy was Rita Skeeter’s shadow.

She’d have to try to find another angle to approach the situation, she mulled over ideas one night sitting in bed, chewing on her thumb nail. Harry crawled in next to her, examining his wife’s pensive expression.

“I think you should finally talk to Hermione about Snape. Tell her how you feel.”

“Hmmm…I dunno. I don’t really feel upset about it anymore. I know I overreacted. I don’t really want to bring it up. I mean…if she says something, fine, but I would just rather not talk about it.”

“I get the feeling she’s avoiding us and like Ron said the other night at dinner, she seems upset about something, but she’s keeping me at arm’s length. I can’t figure out why. I think it has to do with Snape, but I’m worried it might also have to do with us. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Silence fell between them before Ginny resumed the conversation. “You’re really ok with the two of them dating now?” She gave Harry a curious side glance.

Harry sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his night shirt. “It just shocked me at first. I mean, he was our _teacher._ So, like, when we were 15 did she have a crush on him? Like ‘Ms. Granger you need to add more turnip to your cauldron before he explodes and your bushy hair catches fire.’ ‘Oh Professor Snape that makes me so giddy when you use that tone of voice. Stop making me blush’?” Harry tried to imitate both Snape and Hermione, doing a terrible over exaggerated job with both impersonations. Ginny giggled and hit her husband with the back of her hand across his stomach, only making him break out into a huge grin.

“And Snape just seemed so volatile to us when we were younger. I’d prefer to think of him as asexual.” This comment received an eye roll from Ginny.

“It was weird when I found out his past with my mum. Like I knew they all knew each other, I just didn’t know how close they were. My mum did really care about him despite their fallout and I know pretty much everything he did after she died, all the choices he made, were because of her. So I guess I felt like he betrayed her memory, but I know that’s not what it is. And I do want Hermione to be happy.”

“But she’s not happy. And she’s avoiding me.”

“I don’t know if me talking to her would help that.”

“I know,” Ginny adjusted her legs, lowering herself beneath the covers and laying down. “But I think it would make her feel better to know you’re ok with it. I don’t think it would hurt.”

Harry put his glasses on the bedside night table, next to his wand. “Nox.” The room went dark. Harry snuggled up to his wife, putting an arm over her, his lips close to her ear. “Ok, I’ll talk to her. I love you Ginny.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

* * *

Barty Crouch Jr. slept for days after the London incident. Theodore sat in an armchair day and night, waiting for his guest to wake up. His house elves brought him food and mail. He diligently read _The Daily Prophet_ as well as all the Muggle newspapers that London produced. He was quickly becoming obsessed with how his plotting and actions had been received by the public, both Wizard and Muggle.

Barty grumbled in his sleep, frequently sounding possessed, sometimes whimpering like a wounded animal. Rarely did he go for more than an hour or two with undisrupted sleep.  

At one point Pansy joined her husband in the basement of their estate, watching Barty twitch in his sleep with a wary expression. “What do you think is going on in his head?” she asked her husband, not able to pry her eyes away from the deranged man.

Theodore tilted his head thoughtfully. He’d actually found a 18th century book on Dementors at Borgin and Burkes that offered an explanation about the souls of those that have received the Kiss.

“I believe he is reliving the memories of all the souls that Dementor who restored some of his soul may have Kissed. Terribly fascinating, isn’t it?” Theodore mused, leaning his elbows on his knees to stare intently at Barty.

“ _How_?” Pansy looked disgusted.

“It is believed, speculated, that the souls of everyone a Dementor kisses can become tangled together. So when our Dementor friend,” Pansy grimaced at her husband’s words, “so kindly restored some of his soul, he may have received pieces of other people’s souls. It’s hard to tell.” Theodore’s soft, tranquil voice juxtaposed with the dark, sinister topic. Pansy shuddered, turning her face away. “Are you just going to leave him like that?

“Yes,” Theodore’s eyes darkened. “He’s my secret weapon and only that.”

Pansy closed her eyes slowly, as if in pain. “Ok,” she said weakly, before heading back up the stairs. She had underestimated her husband’s lack of humanity.

A few days later Theodore received another visitor in his basement. Hestia’s shoes clomped loudly as she made her way down the wooden stairs, following the directions of a house elf as she sought out Theodore. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Theodore sitting with a book in his hands in the armchair next to Barty, sleeping on the floor, in a cage.

“What?” she gasped.

“Hello,” Theodore greeted formally, looking up from his book like he hadn’t heard Hestia coming down the steps. “How are your older siblings?”

“They’re fine. What is going on here?” She stared askance at the large cage with Barty asleep inside.

“Taking precautions,” Theodore shrugged like the man imprisoned inside the bars was a normal occurrence in his house.

“I…is a cage really necessary?”

“Of course. He’ll mostly like still be deranged. Or unable to control if he is cognizant. He will serve _our_ purpose. I’m not letting him off the leash.”

Hestia felt like the pit of her stomach had dropped below her knees. But she ignored her conscience, instead rationalizing Theodore’s behavior as she always had. He was looking out for the good of Wizardkind, the only one who cared enough to protect their kind. The end would justify the means. He was their strong and wise leader; everything he did was for their benefit.

“So what’s next?”

Theodore observed her, remaining in the armchair. His tone was cool and calculated when he spoke next, his voice felt like silk in her ears. “Hestia, you’re so loyal. So faithful to me and my cause.”

She beamed under his praise and yearned for more. Her heart fluttered when he stood up and came closer. He stood, just a few inches from her now, looking down into her eyes. He moved some of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You’d do anything for our cause, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh yes,” she exhaled, finding that she had been holding her breath. _Anything._ Her body begged for him to touch her again. _But he’s married,_ her conscience once again chimed in. She took the warning and threw it against the walls of her mind forcefully. _So what? Pansy’s not right for him. She’s a dolt._

“You’d die for our cause, wouldn’t you?” Theodore whispered.

Hestia could feel her lip quivering. “If it came to that.”

Theodore pressed his lips against her forehead, squeezing his eyes closed. Hestia rejoiced in his touch, soaking in the feel of his lips. She loved him with all of her heart. She had secretly loved him since their school days. She would call him Master if he requested it.

“You are perfect by my side,” he continued to whisper. His breath caused her skin to tingle, gooseflesh appearing. She sighed, leaning into him.

“No doubt Harry Potter and his friends have formed another Order of some type. Our next move is to tear them apart. Cultivate distrust among them. Chaos is a powerful ally. The drama that accompanies chaos is addicting. It thrills, it entertains, it ensnares people. And we will use that to our advantage.” He pressed another kiss to Hestia’s forehead.

* * *

It was mere luck that Ginny happened to be strolling on a path just outside of Hogwarts’ gates, when she saw Snape sitting on a bench by a lake. This was a walking route she’d discovered the previous summer when Harry had forced her to get off the couch or out of bed and _do something_ after she’d quit the Quidditch team. It was a sunny February day, but incredibly chilly nonetheless and Ginny was wrapped not only in a fluffy sweater, but one of Harry’s coats that was slightly bigger than her stylish, form fitting one. She had it wrapped around her, red mittens covering her hands and a matching red scarf wound around her neck. Glistening frost clung to tree branches, sparkling snow covered the ground.

She approached Snape cautiously, careful to make some slight noise to alert him of her presence before she got to the bench by the lake. A twig snapped under her foot and she paused as Snape turned slowly to look at her. His eyes looked sad and tired.

“I see we have a similar idea of what would make a good reflecting spot. Mind if I sit down?” her voice was low and gentle.

Snape made room for her on the bench, but remained quiet. The two remained silent for awhile, just soaking in the peaceful atmosphere. Despite their lack of conversation, Ginny got the sense that Snape was desperately lonely. _Maybe if I approach him just right, he’ll open up to me._

Finally, she stood up, and stretched. “This really is a wonderful spot to sit and think. I come here on Sunday afternoons sometimes, to clear my head. Thank you for letting me stay today.” She wanted to say more, but she left it alone. If he was going to open up to her, to trust her, it’d have to be in his own time and by his own volition. So she left it an open invitation.

* * *

Snape concluded the staff meeting, nodding his head and dismissing everyone. Hermione stayed in her seat, reorganizing the binder she had brought with various lists and notes within it. She felt his eyes on her and she glanced up to meet them before his darted away to the other side of the room.

These types of fleeting interactions happened frequently as of late. One day she entered the Great Hall for breakfast and his eyes followed her all the way until she reached the dais. He was sitting in the Headmaster’s chair and hadn’t moved his head in her direction at all, but his eyes had stayed on her nonetheless. He’d nod to her when they passed in the hallways, even if she pretended not to notice him. He paid special attention to waiting and holding the door open for her once when she had her arms full of books she’d just checked out from the school library.

He hadn’t tried talking to her beyond what was necessary to keep the school functioning since that day she had slammed the classroom door in his face, but his subtle attention proved to be effective. It both unsettled and reassured her. She assumed he hated her now. For the terrible things she said in their fight, for the way she attacked him where she knew he felt vulnerable, because she had planned to hide the pregnancy from him. But his actions left a small spark of hope in her heart that maybe he didn’t hate her, maybe they’d reconcile.

But it was when Harry approached her in her classroom one day that proved to be the most confusing interaction as of late. She had carefully avoided any one on one contact with him since New Years Eve, afraid of reliving his horror at finding out about her and Snape. She also didn’t want to tell anyone about their breakup. But here Harry was, walking in and closing the classroom door quietly behind him, studying her face with an apprehensive look.

“Hey,” his voice was blatantly nervous.

She swallowed. “Hey,” her’s equally nervous.

“Can I…” he gestured towards a chair near her desk.

“Oh, yes, of course.” She plopped down in her wooden chair a little too hard, hurting her bum and trying not to wince from the pain.

“I uhh…” Harry was always so awkward when he was nervous. If Hermione hadn’t been just as nervous she would’ve found their interaction incredibly humorous. 

“I heard that…you know…you and Snape were getting really close and um,” he swallowed loudly, the muscles in his throat bobbing up and down, “I just wanted to say-“

“I know, I know what you’re going to say,” she cut him off, finding his stammering unbearable. She blinked slowly. “I know it’s weird, and probably disgusting to you, and-“

“I was going to say that I’m happy if you’re happy,” it was his turn to cut her off.

Her mouth hung open as she digested his words. “Oh, ok. Uh, thanks.”

“I don’t want to know any details though,” Harry shook his head vigorously.

“Oh, yeah, I get it.” The shock seemed to slow her brain down as she tried to regain her composure.

“Great,” Harry stood up abruptly, eager to leave. “Well good talk.”

“Ye-yeah. You too.” Hermione stared blankly at her desk long after he left. Ginny put him up to that, no doubt. But he seemed genuine when he told her he wanted to her to be happy.

Now if only she were actually happy.

* * *

Ginny was skeptical that she’d find Snape at the lake again, but a week later she walked the distance from Hogsmeade and smiled when she saw the black clad figure on the bench as she drew near. He sat on the same side of the bench as last time, this time already leaving a side open for company.

“Hi,” she exhaled and her warm breath swirled out into the cold air. He remained silent but nodded in response.

Like last time, they sat quietly, observing birds that flew over the frozen lake, occasionally landing on the ice, chirping incessantly, before taking flight once again. Finally Ginny decided to break the silence, hopeful that if she broached the subject cautiously and thoughtfully Snape would be responsive. Maybe they’d both find healing along the way. _Tell him_ , her mind gently prodded.

“I’ve had a really hard year. You know…since…”

Snape turned to look at her as she trailed off and she shrugged. “Since the epidemic last winter.”

He nodded, looking back towards the lake.

“I’ve felt really alone and bitter at times with Harry balancing two jobs.” She paused again, choosing her words carefully. “I really shut myself off from everyone. I just felt angry at the world. I either wanted to sleep all the time to avoid everything or set something on fire.” She let out a short, bitter laugh, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. She felt Snape’s eyes on her now. She felt the question lingering in the space between them. She could sense Snape’s confusion; why would she have a reason to be so livid, to be so depressed? She took a shaky breath.

“I had a miscarriage…” she began tentatively. He looked at her but remained silent. “During the epidemic. While Harry was quarantined at Hogwarts.”

She heard the faintest sound escape from Snape’s lips; a soft, sympathetic whimper. She glanced at him quickly to assess his mood. The crease between his eyebrows was deep, a pained look in his eyes. Shocked by such a response from him, she looked away before he could accuse her of staring.

“I think I was just so nervous about everything and scared I’d get sick too. My anxiety was so high that my body just couldn’t sustain life. At least that’s how it seemed to me. I was alone when it happened. I…I haven’t told anyone other than Harry. I haven’t wanted to talk about it until now, honestly. I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s an over share.” Ginny had taken her gamble, now holding her breath to see how he would respond. He stayed quiet for so long she thought he’d never respond, but finally he did, his voice soft and gentle.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

His words were so simple, but genuine.

“It just helps to finally talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about it, not even with Harry. I didn’t want to seem weak. But the loneliness of keeping it in was destructive. I felt trapped, clawing away at my mind every time I overanalyzed and blamed myself for what had happened.”

He nodded, understanding her completely. “Would you like to have tea with me next Sunday?” The invitation spilled out of his mouth before he had a chance to over think it.

Ginny smiled, her eyes shinning through glistening tears. “I’d like that very much.”

Snape bowed his head as he stood. “I’ll see you next week then, send a floo to my office at Hogwarts and I’ll grant you access to floo directly in.” He stood and began to walk away stiffly.

* * *

Snape took his time walking back to Hogwarts. He needed to sort through what he felt after Ginny’s reveal. Did she know about Hermione’s miscarriage? Maybe Hermione had talked to someone after all. Why had Ginny sought him out, though? They were Hermione’s friends, why think of him at all?

He used to spend a weekend afternoon having tea with McGonagall before she retired. Then his free time on weekends was spent with Hermione. Now, it seemed his Sunday afternoons would be shared with Ginny Weasley-Potter. It felt strange and natural all at the same time.

* * *

Ginny stared at her teacup, not even noticing Harry had entered the room. He did a double take at her as he began to grab food out of the pantry.

“Hey,” he said casually, opening a bag of crisps. Ginny had seemed more herself in the last few months, especially after getting another job, but he suspected that sometimes she was playacting, for the sake of pleasing everyone.

She finally lifted the teacup to her lips, but by this time the brown liquid was lukewarm. She tucked some of her hair behind an ear and turned her attention to her husband.

“Harry…I want to try again but I’m scared.” 

“I know.” He clenched his jaw, not knowing if she wanted him to encourage her to try for a baby again or continue to be silent and patient about it.

“I want to have a baby so bad,” a cry escaped her lips and she began to tremble.

“Oh, Ginny, I know, I know. C’mere.” He pulled her into a close embrace, kissing her head.

“But I…I’m so scared to go through that again,” she said between sobs. “I don’t know if I could bear for it to happen again. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with my body?”

Harry clung to her, rocking their bodies back and forth, as he tried to comfort his wife. “Gin, I really think the circumstances will be different next time. We were so stressed out about the epidemic and the possibility of either of us getting sick. That had to have something to do with it. I was working overtime trying to help at Hogwarts and you were alone. I should have moved you to your mother’s, I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” using the sleeve of her shirt she wiped a mixture of snot and tears from her face.

“I will wait as long as you want until you feel more comfortable and ready. And we can look into adoption as well.”

Her eyes fell, her face twitching in concentration. “Harry, there isn’t really a Wizard adoption network.”

“Well why shouldn’t there be? I was an orphan. There have been other Wizard orphans and there will be in the future. It’s inevitable.”

Ginny bit the bottom of her lip and sniffed. “Maybe.”

“Either way, Ginny, we _know_ we want to be parents. We will find a way to be parents. I promise.” He held her face, his warm hands on either side of her jaw, and looked into her eyes trying to convey all the hope he had ever felt in his life. Ginny blinked, a few more stray tears rolling down her cheeks.

The late afternoon sunlight bathed the two in golden light as they pressed their foreheads together, grappling with the balance between grief and hope.

* * *

Harry increased his step, weaving around teenagers as he caught up to Hermione in the hallway. “Hermione, we’re going out to Accio Beer for Ron’s birthday this Saturday. You’ll be there right?”

Hermione craned her neck, staring at the ceiling and grimacing. “Oh God I forgot Ron’s birthday was coming up.”

“You’ll come right? I looked on the schedule, you don’t have duty that night.”

“Of course I’ll come, why does it sound like you’re accusing me that I won’t?” She shot Harry a suspicious glance.

“Well you haven’t been entirely social lately,” he said, nervously, avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled.

“Hey,” Harry said gently, grabbing her hand to stop her from walking away, “I’m not trying to accuse you, we’ve all really busy, but just come out with us, ok? We miss you.”

Hermione nodded and promised, feigning a smile to please Harry.

* * *

Hermione wistfully watched her friends interact, as they laughed, and drank, and ate merrily. After the last couple of months she’d had she felt like an outsider looking in at the group. Everything seemed in slow motion, muted, and colorless. She tried to seem normal, to be talkative, to forget her miscarriage and breakup with Severus. She tried to push down the loneliness and make herself believe that she’ll get over him.

But in reality she felt miserable. She missed him more than she had ever missed anyone. And that only made her feel stupid; _we only dated for a few months, get a grip, Hermione!_

“Hermioneeeeee,” Ron slid into the booth next to Hermione as she watched the rest of their friends attempt to play a tipsy round of Wizard Skittles. “You don’t look like you’re having any fun.”

“Sorry, Ron, I am. I’m just tired. You know, with everything that’s going on.” She looked at him apologetically. “Happy birthday, kid.” She smiled and nudged him affectionately.

“Aww thanks.” He looked at her with sappy eyes and then his expression grew serious. “I want you to know I will always be there for you, Hermione. _Always,”_ Ron said earnestly. “Whenever you need me.”

Hermione turned to study his face, observing him silently for a few seconds. “Ron,” she began in the serious tone she used to use when she’d lecture the boys growing up, “you don’t need to live your life worrying about my needs or looking after me. You _shouldn’t_ live your life that way. It’s not fair to you.”

“I just want to see you cared for. And happy.”

“Oh Ron,” she slipped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. For the first time in weeks she felt peaceful. The warmth of his body and his words comforted her. No matter what happened, she had her friends. They’d been through plenty of trials together, they could certainly trudge through the symbolic muck and filth the future had in store for them.

“I love you guys,” she said, her eyes trained on Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna.

“We love you too. Stop holding everyone at arm’s length. It’s ok to let people in.”

Hermione internalized Ron’s words, Snape’s face flashing through her mind.

* * *

 **A/N-** Thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 22. I really appreciate it when you review. I was going through hardcore writer’s burnout in October & November (not writer’s block, I have this story outlined and other chapters started), but more just feeling like my story was silly and didn’t matter. When I started it I had such a great time writing it, felt excitement, and it was for my own pleasure. Then it morphed into constant worry if people liked my story or not and while I can’t say that’s completely gone away, I think my mentality is healthier as of late. And in the end, this is my story and I need to make it what I want it to be. It needs to be something pleasing to me. And I’m not perfect and neither is story. But I’m trying, I put a lot of effort, thought, and research into this story.  
But anyway, thank you for the people that have reviewed and gave kudos. I love to see a little (1) in my inbox!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! My new year’s resolution is to declutter more often lol
> 
> Disclaimer-I don’t own much of anything at all, including the Harry Potter franchise. Once again, the Prime Minister in this story is in no way a reflection of any real British Prime Minister.

 

The first tea Ginny and Snape shared was short, quiet, and a bit awkward. Conversation didn’t flow naturally; Ginny felt strange sitting inside the headmaster’s office with a cup of tea; and Snape felt nervous, having limited experience with hosting. Their first tea was the day after Ron’s birthday, so Ginny was feeling worn and tired, but tried to keep up appearances. As she readied to leave, slipping into her coat and donning her gloves, she assumed he wouldn’t want to continue having tea since this first time had seemed rather unnatural, so she was surprised and relieved when he asked if she wanted to come back the following Sunday. She readily agreed, smiling reassuringly, while he nodded curtly, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Their second Sunday proved to be much more relaxed and fruitful. Snape stoked the fire after Ginny arrived, having pulled the armchairs closer to it, rather than sitting around his desk like last time. The House Elves brought scones and cucumber sandwiches at his request. And so, after exchanging customary pleasantries, Ginny decided to dive right in on the topic she cared most about.

“What happened with you and Hermione?”

Snape turned his dark eyes on Ginny and she swallowed her fear, choosing not to spend time over-analyzing his reaction. She gave him a deadpan look, refusing to be intimidated. He had opened the door to her and this conversation and she was certainly going to take advantage of it.

“I mean, I know you two were dating. I had a feeling you guys were and she confirmed it right before Christmas. But now…lately…what’s been going on?”

Ginny knew she was definitely pushing the limits with Snape. She couldn’t quite tell if her nonchalant, blunt approach was better than an emotional appeal, but she had an inkling that it was more preferable. He searched her face, his eyes guarded and skeptical, and she tried to remain as impassive as possible.

“Why don’t you ask her?” there was a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

“I’ve tried. She’s avoiding me.” Ginny continued to stare at him. Oh what she wouldn’t give to be a Legilimens at this moment. Despite part of her conscience telling her to cease her questioning, she ignored all caution; she wanted to unsettle him, to catch him off guard, to get a raw and honest reaction from him. After all the years of hiding behind his tailored responses and masks, Ginny wanted to tear them down, to see and know the real him.

“We are not together anymore.”

“Why not?” She didn’t miss a beat.

His eyes flashed. She sat calmly, expecting for him to throw her out of his office at any minute, bracing herself for his anger. But the exasperation faded from his eyes and Ginny had a feeling she was getting somewhere.

“Some of that is her business to tell, I do not wish to violate her privacy.”

“Is it because Harry freaked out about you two dating?”

Snape sat back against his armchair, turning to stare into the fire. “No, that caused contention, but there were a few reasons why we’ve decided to discontinue our relationship.”

“Ah, ‘discontinue,’ that’s a very formal way of putting it.”

He furrowed his brows and blinked to show his annoyance as he continued to stare into the flames.

Ginny sighed. “I wish she would talk to me. She keeps things in a lot and distances herself from people. For self preservation, I get it, but it’s like what you and I talked about a couple of weeks ago, it’s good to have someone to open up to and talk with; it’s healing and freeing.”

“Hmm…No doubt Hermione will find what she needs in another man.” He turned his head back towards Ginny, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps your brother?”

“What? Ron? No! That’s absurd!”

Snape shrugged. “Is it?”

Ginny couldn’t stop herself from half laughing, half gagging; the idea seemed preposterous to her. “What do you think Hermione needs in a relationship?”

Snape shrugged again. “Stability. Laughter. Someone she can boss around.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, picking up on the bite in his tone at his last comment. “Are we talking about the same Hermione? And, besides, I asked what do you think she NEEDS in a relationship. Not wants. Hermione doesn’t want a conventional life. Why do you think she ended things with Oliver after dating him for over a year? He wanted to settle down and get married. He was a conventional boyfriend. That’s not what she wanted or needed in the long run. Conventional doesn’t stimulate her. It doesn’t intrigue her. She gets bored and feels trapped. She needs someone who will challenge her. Someone who frustrates her. She needs _and_ she wants someone more complicated. Someone with experience and maturity. She needs someone a little rough around the edges.” Ginny’s analysis surprised even herself; she hadn’t planned on saying any of this. 

His chest rose and fell as if he was in a deep slumber or meditation. Ginny held her breath, staring at him as he stared into the fire, the reflection of the flames dancing in his pupils.

The school bells chimed, bringing both of them out of their spellbound moment and back to reality.

“I better get going, Harry will be home soon.” Ginny stood up, smoothing her sweater around her hips and looking around for her coat. “I’ll see you next Sunday?” Ginny felt a bit of doubt that he’d want to her to come back after her hardball questions, but relief flooded into her heart when he merely blinked and looked up at her, replying with a simple “yes.”

“Great,” Ginny grinned, pulling her long red hair out over the back of her coat; it lay in straight thick strands, swooshing against the back of her blue coat. “Thank you for the tea and snacks. It was delicious.” She stepped into the fire and whooshed away, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts.

“She’s right you know,” a familiar voice caught his attention from behind him. Snape grimaced and rolled his eyes.

“Go back to sleep Albus,” he muttered. “You’ve done enough meddling as is.”

Dumbledore’s lighthearted chuckle bounced off the walls of Snape’s office, his cheeks rosy and his blue eyes dancing with mirth.

Snape scowled. 

* * *

Hermione felt someone watching her as she scribbled corrections on a student’s essay. She was currently sitting in the library, munching on some carrots, hoping that her snack would go unnoticed by Madam Pince, and trying to catch up on grading. In the last few weeks she found herself completely distracted by the personal issues in her life when she needed to be focused on her work.

Snape’s words _“you should talk to someone”_ coupled with Ron’s _“don’t be so afraid to let people in”_ kept nagging her, forcing her to mull over the last couple of years of her life.

The tip of her quill glided over the parchment, her cursive letters making a faint scratching sound as her eyes shot up to catch her unsuspecting onlooker. But she was too late to make eye contact and only caught a glimpse of the long black robe and strands of black hair as her observer passed behind a bookshelf. She shook her head and returned her attention back to the essay.

A few minutes later she felt a pair of eyes on her again. Frustrated, she sighed loudly and slammed her quill down. “What?!” She looked up, only to see Elizabeth’s frightened face.

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione winced. “I thought you were someone else.” She gestured to a chair at the table, closing her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I was just wondering, since I saw you in here, if I could ask you a question about what elective classes I should take next year. If that’s ok?”

“Yes, yes, sit down, really I won’t bite. I promise.”

Elizabeth sat tensely, her body language still revealing she felt apprehensive about approaching Hermione, but began with her questions, tucking some blonde hair behind her ear.

A couple of minutes later Hermione saw Snape pull a book from another shelf, flipping through it absentmindedly. Her eyes flickered back to Elizabeth’s and she nodded to show she was still paying attention, but then she shot them back over to Snape and caught him in the middle of his glance at her. He shut the book and replaced it, nodding at her before swooping away, his black robe flowing out from behind his legs.

 _What a odd man_ , she mused, turning her attention back to Elizabeth. _What an odd man you love,_ her heart whispered back to her.

* * *

When Hermione arrived in her classroom Monday morning she found a muffin and a note on her desk.

_I noticed you weren’t at breakfast and the Elves served your favorite: cranberry lemon muffins. I thought you might like one. SS_

Hermione stared at the note, lost in a daze as she read the two simple sentences in the elegant calligraphy. Her heart thumped in her chest, its beat reverberated in her ears. Lowering the note from her face, Hermione blinked, realizing students were already filing into the room and taking their seats.

* * *

She lowered herself slowly to a chair in the Great Hall, unfolding her napkin across her lap. Dinner that night was beef stew, rolls, and mashed potatoes.

“Thank you for the muffin this morning. It was much appreciated,” Hermione said formally, looking over the food in front of her, her fingers curling around the cold metal of her spoon. She saw Snape bow his head out of her periphery.

“You’re welcome.” His low, silky voice tingled in her ears and sent shivers down her spine.

“I’m sorry I cancelled our last two headmaster-deputy meetings. I’ve been behind on grading. But I’m mostly caught up now and I hope we can resume our meetings soon.”

She spooned some beef stew into her mouth, sitting back and closing her eyes. “Mmmmm.”

His eyes widened and shot to her face; his eyes, ears, and nose gathering in as much sensory detail about that moment as he could before she caught him staring.

“Oh the stew is so good here.” She sighed contentedly and slowly opened her eyes. Snape had to use all of his will power to pry his eyes away from her face. He looked down at his soup, stirring it slowly and trying to stop his mind from taking that vision of her too far in his imagination.

“Have you been feeling better?” He asked quietly, his voice a bit weak.

After a brief pause, Hermione nodded twice. “Yes, I am. Thank you for asking. I did go to consult with a Mediwitch. Thank you for the advice.”

“You’re welcome. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Hermione’s heart contracted. After all this time, he still cared. “Thank you.”

The two ate the rest of their dinner in silence, surveying the students in front of them, but both of them breathed a sigh of relief. The tension between them had cleared.

* * *

On Saturday morning an owl dropped a letter in Hermione’s lap during breakfast. She curiously opened it, not recognizing the handwriting on the envelope.

_I’m ready to meet. D_

Hermione looked up abruptly, her mind moving rapidly over her day’s schedule. If she left now she would have enough time before the study session with her O.W.L students. She took a quick gulp of coffee and grabbed a banana, leaving the Great Hall through the door behind the dais.

* * *

“Kingsley, what is this?”

The British Prime Minister slid a piece of paper and a photograph across his desk the moment Shacklebolt entered his office, flanked by two of the Prime Minister’s advisers. Shacklebolt stared down at the two items, his mind racing.

“That is one of the leading members in your society, is it not? Do explain.”

Shacklebolt couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photograph of Snape following Barty Crouch Jr. in the park, a sneer on Snape’s face, a smug look in his eyes. Shacklebolt cleared his throat, struggling to find something to say.

“I will have him ordered in for questioning-“

“I want him brought to my government and law enforcement,” the Prime Minister’s shook with fury. “This happened in _my_ world and he shall pay the punishments we see fit. Breaking into a hospital? Releasing patients? The terror and violence they enacted on my people? They will serve the consequences with us since they ventured out to inflict harm on our community.”

Shacklebolt closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to calm and steady himself. “Sir, we have reason to believe this is a set-up-“

“Who is that other man?” The Prime Minister demanded, cutting off Shacklebolt again. He pointed at Barty in the photograph. “He’s been quartered in my hospital for years without any I.D. on him. Is he one of _yours?_ ”

“That is Barty Crouch Jr. and yes, he’s a wizard. We believed him dead.”

“Hmm. Once again it seems your government can’t keep track of its people very competently.”

“With all due respect, sir, I highly doubt any government in the world is able to keep track of every single one of their citizens as well as you assume. In fact, the man in the sketch, that is Severus Snape and he is half Muggle. So it seems you lost track of one of your own as well.”

The Prime Minister grunted and started to sort through the other papers on his desk. “I would like you to apprehend Mr. Snape and escort him here.” The Prime Minister’s eyes shot up to Shacklebolt’s. “With haste.”

* * *

“Why did you bring up what Hermione needs in a relationship last time?”

Ginny looked up in surprise as she laid her coat and purse down on a chair. She’d just stepped into Snape’s office only a few seconds earlier for their weekly afternoon tea.

“I…I’m sorry,” Ginny offered, nervous about how the rest of the conversation would go if he was still upset about the week before.   
“No, tell me why,” he commanded, his voice deep, his eyes steadily watching her as he stood across the room by the windows.

 _Breathe_ she reminded herself. “Because I think you two should be together. And I think it’s wrong that you’re not.” She held his eye contact with determination.

His eyes grew misty as he lowered his eyes and blinked. “I miss her. But I think our separation is for the best.”

Ginny struggled not to gape at him, completely surprised by his confession. “I…I’m fairly certain she misses you too.” Ginny walked over to him, closing the space between them; her face empathetic and honest.

He shrugged, continuing to avoid her eyes. “I’m not good for her.”

“I don’t believe that,” Ginny said resolutely.

“I’m old and I’m cynical and I have a very dark past. I want her to have a happy life.”

“Don’t you think you deserve happiness too? Have you ever thought about what’s good for you?”

“I’d prefer not to have hope.”

“You shouldn’t pretend you don’t care about her. It’s obviously ripping you apart.”

“It would be better for her if she moved on.”

“Do you love her?”

Snape opened his mouth, only to slam it closed. Ginny saw the muscles in his throat bob up and down as he swallowed back his words. He looked like he was trembling, emotions raging within him.

“I want to show you something,” he said after an agonizingly long minute of silence. He walked across the room, gesturing to Ginny to follow him. Stopping in front of the Pensieve, he gave her a quizzical look. “May I show you some of my memories?”

Ginny inhaled sharply, feeling nervous, but nodded her head. He pulled two threads from his mind, tapping them into the stone bowl. “The first is the day we were attacked by Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, and the second is about a year ago, during the epidemic, when Filius was sick and asked me to take over as headmaster.”

“Ok,” Ginny stepped up to the Pensieve, staring down at the fluid in the bowl for a few seconds before submerging her head. She watched Snape’s memories patiently, trying to take in as much detail as possible. Inside the boathouse she saw Voldemort, his voice making her shiver, triggering her memories of his journal. Ginny forced herself to watch the snake attack. She took note of the way Hermione tried to cover Snape’s body very deliberately with her own.

Ginny was trying to take in and comprehend the last part of his memory when the scene dissolved and she found herself standing the Room of Requirement, watching Snape’s emotional encounter in front of the Mirror of Erised, as Lily faded and Hermione appeared before him.

Ginny withdrew her head from the Pensieve and searched his face, attempting to glean and discern his emotions. He kept his emotions guarded, however, staring at her blankly.

“You need to show her these. Both of them together, just like this,” Ginny said, resolutely.

A flash of green alerted Snape that someone was entering his office just two seconds before a stern voice addressed him. “Severus, we need to talk.”

Ginny jumped in surprise, putting her hand to her heart and looking at Snape frantically.

“Kingsley, you’re early for the meeting,” Snape addressed the Minister.

“I have some distressing news.”

* * *

“C’mon,” Hermione wrapped her arms around her torso, bouncing to keep herself warm. It was a cold and windy Sunday and her curls were quickly becoming a ratted mess. “Where are you?”

Finally she saw someone disapparate, just outside of the Hogwarts gates. Draco looked tired as he approached; the wind not doing his hair any favors either.

“Hi,” she said, watching his face closely as she pushed open the gate to let him in.

“Hello,” he answered, looking ahead at the castle in the misty distance. “I didn’t think I’d be back under circumstances like this.”

“Well unfortunately you are.” She grabbed his jacket and pulled him close to her, their chests bumping into each other. He looked down at her with an amused look in his eyes and a smile playing at his lips as her hair whipped around her face.

“Oh stop,” she bid him sternly. “We’re not walking all the way, I’m apparating us in.”

* * *

“You’re right,” Hestia confirmed, giving Theodore a firm nod. “I saw him talking with Hermione yesterday and I had a hunch what they might be up to. I waited outside Hogwarts, in the trees under a disillusionment charm for hours, but I was right. He went to Hogwarts. I just saw Hermione let him in.”

“Perfect. Thank you for that. Unfortunately our fellow Slytherin is a weak pushover and a pathetic disgrace to our House.”

* * *

“Sorry we’re late,” Hermione called out as she pushed open the door to Snape’s office, her cheeks red from the chill outside.

“We?” she heard Neville’s voice.

All of a sudden there was a commotion; a cacophony of voices, fists slamming against the table, a chair scraping against the floor as someone stood up abruptly.

“No!”

“What is he doing here?”

“Hermione, why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Everyone calm down.”

“No, no, no. He can’t stay.”

“Blimey, Hermione, have you gone crazy?”

Snape was at her side in a flash, pulling on her arm and staring at her intensely. The look frightened her. He pulled her out into the hallway, jerking his head at Draco, commanding him to follow.

But the door to his office remained opened for just a minute too long.

“We can’t trust Draco in the Order. Not with the new accusations leveled at Severus,” Neville’s voice carried out into the hallway. Someone inside slammed the door shut.

“Accusations?” Hermione questioned anxiously, her eyes alarmed as they darted back and forth between Snape’s, searching his for answers.

“Today is not a good day for us to be allowing new members into the Order,” Snape leaned his head down to Hermione’s, his lips close to her ear.

“But I think he can-“

“Hermione,” Snape said gruffly, “not today.”

She set her jaw, her eyes flashing, but acquiesced. “Fine.” She swallowed, looking down at her shoes briefly before turning to Draco.

“I’m sorry I brought you here.”

He ran his hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “Look, I know no one except you wants me here-“

“Draco,” Snape cut in. “We both trust you,” his eyes bore into Draco’s. “The others are another matter and today is not the best day for you to join us. I _will_ be in touch with you. Hermione, will you take him back?”

Hermione disapparated them back to the gate, looking at Draco apologetically. “I’m sorry, I had no idea the reaction would be so strong. I told them back in January that I had talked to you.”

Draco shrugged but had a defeated look on his face. “I get it. Why should you guys trust me?”

“Snape and I _do_ trust you.”

He shrugged again. “Ok.” He let himself out, the gate clanking loudly as it closed behind him. Hermione watched him until he disappeared, her shoulders drooping.

* * *

“What’s going on?” she asked the minute she returned to Snape’s office.

Harry was holding a newspaper, Ginny reading over his shoulder with a worried expression.

“Severus is being framed for the release of Barty Crouch Jr.” Shacklebolt said grimly.

“What? How?” Her eyes found Snape; he was sitting in his chair, his eyes tired, his expression resigned.

“This is garbage!” Harry shouted as he flung the newspaper on the table. Luna pulled it to her, propping her elbows on the table, her body hunched over the newspaper as she began to read.

“The Muggle Prime Minister has this sketch and photograph from the night of the London attack.” Shacklebolt handed her the both. Her hands shook as she looked over them and then back to Snape.

“He’s demanding that I apprehend Severus and bring him forward for Muggle arrest and trial.”

“So stupid!” Ron shouted, his hands slamming against the table. “I’m so tired of the Muggle government interfering in our affairs! That Prime Minister is a bully!”

“Ron,” Tonks shook her head quickly, her eyes warning him to cool it. “They have this evidence, even if you’re framed, they have to go off of this evidence. We need an albi, Severus.” Heads turned towards him. “The night of December 31st, New Years Eve.” Tonks looked at him sympathetically.

“I was here, at Hogwarts.”

“Were you with anyone? Do we have a witness for your alibi? Specifically between the hours of 11 and 1? Barty’s release sounds like it took place between 11 and midnight, according to the Muggle police’s report. The attack was at midnight, just as the fireworks were going off.”

Snape’s eyes met Hermione’s, his expression was indecipherable. But her heart sank as she realized he didn’t have a witness during that time frame.

“No. I was alone.”

Silence descended upon the room as the members of the Order of the Thunderbird looked at each other, wondering what to do or say next.

“I was supposed to be with him,” Hermione spoke up quietly, folding her arms across her chest. She dropped her eyes, she couldn’t bear to look at him. “We were planning on ringing in the new year together. But I was upset with him…and I didn’t get to his room until 1, maybe even after 1 in the morning.”

The silence was thick and heavy. Suffocating.

“This is an early copy of tomorrow’s _Daily Prophet_. The story is going to break tomorrow in our community. The Muggle community has already been on the hunt for the last two months before they pieced together is was a Wizard in the picture. What options do we have?” Shacklebolt propelled the conversation forward.

“Someone obviously impersonated him, either through the Imperius Curse or Polyjuice Potion,” George chimed in, “so you could provide some memories of that night to show your innocence?”

“That could work for our community. We’ll still need to take him to the Muggle authorities and they won’t understand the Pensieve process, they’ll need other evidence,” Shacklebolt frowned, his hands on his hips. “People are going to want answers when this drops tomorrow, so we need to act fast to show that we have the situation somewhat under control.”

“How did the _Daily Prophet_ get a hold of this story before any of us?” Angelina cried out. 

“Pansy.” Ginny looked around at the other members. “She must have fed them the story.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ron hung his head in defeat.

“Let the story break,” Snape finally stood up, both his face and voice calm. “I need tonight to get things in order. I will turn myself in to you tomorrow morning, Kingsley, and from there you can take me to the Muggle authorities. I am innocent and will prove it in any and every way that I can. Nymphadora, I would appreciate if you could come with us tomorrow. I would like Auror representation.”

“Of course.”

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes as she stared at Snape, her shoulders beginning to shake.

“I think we should all get back to work now. Remember the contingency plan and pay attention to your schedules that Bill and Tonks made for us.”

The fellow members of the Order of the Thunderbird bid Snape good luck, shaking his hand, patting his back, as they filed out. McGonagall stood with him for a couple of minutes, clasping his hand and telling him something with an ardent expression. Ginny gave him a tearful hug and a knowing look, before begrudgingly following her husband out of the office. She gave Hermione a quick hug, squeezing her friend’s hands, whispering “it’s going to be ok.”

“Send me a message if you need me, for any reason,” Luna hugged Hermione, rubbing her back as Neville looked on sadly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ll come in for breakfast,” he reassured Hermione.

When the room cleared Hermione faced Snape alone. She looked small and tired in her oversized grey sweater, her hair still tousled from the wind earlier.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could muster.

“For what?” Snape began moving around his desk, inking his quill. He glanced at her as he sat down.

“If I had been there with you when I should have been you’d have a witness. I feel awful.”

He winced. “Everything will be ok.” He began writing. Hermione sniffed looking around his office. “Will you go inform Septima please? I think it’s time we brought her into the know. Ask her to come to my office.”

“Yes,” Hermione’s soft voice was barely audible as she turned to leave, glancing back once more at Snape whose head was bent over his desk as he continued to write.

* * *

_Draco, what do you know? Can you meet, as soon as possible, tonight? SS_

Draco’s reply came back within the hour, an owl tapping on Snape’s window as he wrote instructions to Hermione as deputy headmistress on a piece of parchment on his desk. He read over Draco’s reply quickly, nodded, and grabbed his coat and a scarf before disapparating out of Hogwarts.

“Draco,” Snape nodded grimly as he met his former pupil in the street.

“Sir,” Draco responded, returning the curt nod. “Shall we?” He held open the door to Hog’s Head for Snape, entering into the pub behind him.

“Look I know who is behind this,” Draco said, once they ordered two drinks and sat down in a corner, his voice low and serious. “It’s Theodore Nott and his crew.”

“We suspected as much, but were having a difficult time coming up with hard evidence. Who else is involved?”

Draco proceeded to answer Snape’s questions, the two of them spending about ten minutes deep in conversation. Finally Snape sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Draco stared down into his empty glass, having drowned his Firewhisky in two gulps.

“Nott actually wants to meet with you,” Draco said, his eyes darkening.

Snape glared at Draco, taking his time before he answered. “Take me to him.”

* * *

Hermione stabbed at the potato hash on her plate with her fork, her mind groggy, her eyes both bloodshot and red rimmed from crying and a lack of sleep. She had tossed and turned all night, worrying about Snape. She didn’t expect to see him at breakfast, but hoped that perhaps he’d make the effort to come eat with everyone before he headed to London. Disappointment sank in as she walked up to the dais, sitting between Harry and Neville who had both decided to come early to be with Hermione. Vector nodded at her grimly from a few seats down as she sat next to Keighly, who was happily chatting away.

Three hours later Tonks appeared in the door of the Potions classroom, an anxious expression written across her face.

“Uhh, excuse me everyone, why don’t you start gathering the ingredients for the experiment I have listed on the board.”

Students started shuffling around the room as Hermione joined Tonks in the hallway. Hermione closed the door quietly behind her and leaned against it, fear coursing through her heart.

“Do you know where Snape is?” The question came tumbling out of Tonks’ mouth.

“What? No.”

“He’s missing. He didn’t show up in London today.”

* * *

Dun. Dun. Dun.

Sorry another cliffhanger. I’m so evil.

Thank you everyone for reading, the kudos, subscribing, bookmarking, and reviewing! I’ll try to get chapter 25 up within a week or two! xoxo


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More notes at the end of the chapter. One part of this chapter you’ve seen before (Chapter 12), but it needed to be added back into this chapter as well for a greater perspective. You'll also get the end of Trelawney's prophecy from 1998, which I've deliberately withheld from you.  
> The song that’s quoted at the end is _I Need My Girl_ by the National.   
>  Also, a reminder that I veered from canon post OotP and kept Dumbledore alive until 1998, kept the trio at Hogwarts, and didn’t emphasize The Deathly Hallows in the Battle of Hogwarts. You’ll understand this reminder as you get through this chapter.

“Our government has everything under control,” Shacklebolt issued a statement to the Ministry a couple of hours after the news broke that Snape was a wanted man for the terror in London and the release of Barty Crouch Jr. The news that he was missing hadn’t broke yet, but Shacklebolt was sure it would by the end of the day.

Despite his calm demeanor as he addressed the rest of the Ministry, chaos reigned in his office later that day; the atmosphere was a mixture of anxious activity and incessant chatter. The intensity was enough to drive Hermione crazy as she sat silently in the midst of it all, feeling sick to her stomach and ready to scream at everyone to shut up.

“The Prime Minister is livid, of course. He thinks we’re purposely hiding Snape,” Shacklebolt announced, drawing eyes towards him and the chatter to die down.

“We searched the Nott estate. Both Theodore and Pansy were home and cooperated in the search. We can’t find any evidence to link them to Snape’s disappearance.” Tonks shrugged, looking worn and defeated. Harry and Hermione exchanged a pained look. If Theodore and Pansy were cooperating then they really had no clue what had happened to Snape or where he had gone.

“He was last seen with Draco in Hogsmeade, at Hog’s Head,” Ron reported. “No sign of Draco either. We interviewed his parents this morning and they said he left the house around 6 that evening to dine out with Snape and never came home. They didn’t think it was unusual that he wasn’t home when they went to bed, they said he stays out late from time to time. They were a more worried this morning when the House Elves said he never came home. They did note he seemed apprehensive for the last few days, just preoccupied and distracted, but other than that no unusual activity,” Ron flipped a page over in his notepad as he read over his notes.

Harry turned to Hermione, his face stern. “Hermione, you brought Draco to the meeting, I’m sure he overheard some stuff. Do you think they ran away? Do you think Snape would do that?”

Hermione shook her head adamantly. “No, _no_! I know he wouldn’t run away. Draco _had_ information for us but you guys kicked him out!”

Harry threw his arms up in frustration. “Then Draco was lying to you all along!” His yelling caused everyone’s heads to snap towards him, the room fell completely silent and still.

“No!” Hermione cried out, but Harry cut her off.

“You _don’t_ know! You over heard one conversation between Draco and Theodore and as you reported to us, Draco didn’t even say much in that conversation, so we really don’t know where his alliances lie. For all we know Draco is a secret spy for Nott! Maybe Draco is planning something even worse than what’s already happened. You put our whole operation in danger when you invited him to that meeting!”

The tears stung in Hermione’s eyes and she struggled to breathe. No matter Harry’s tirade, she still believed Draco was innocent and truthful when he agreed to come to the meeting.

“Either you believe Snape willfully left _you_ ,” Harry’s emphasis on “you” hung heavy in the air between the two of them, “or you were gullible and believed Draco.”

“Harry,” Ginny’s stern voice drew everyone’s eyes to her now. “Stop haranguing Hermione. We don’t know-“

“But we do know,” Harry began pacing, his eyes wild. “Nott’s estate was searched. Nothing. Draco’s parents said he seemed moodier than usual. That’s all we have to go on.”

Tonks shot a nervous look at Shacklebolt, hoping he’d step in and settle Harry and Hermione down before the whole meeting became derailed into a mess of emotions.

“Tonks, what’s the next step?” Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows at the Head Auror.

“Right,” she nodded, “I’ve already sent a group of Aurors to search the Carrows’ home, since they’re the next on the suspect list. They should be reporting back soon.”

Shacklebolt turned to ask another question when one of his aides ran in, waving a parchment poster. “Someone is posting these all over the place!” The aide cried out, trying to catch his breath. Hermione didn’t want to look but a series of gasps drew her eyes to the dark eyes and look of determination on Snape’s face in the moving photograph as he followed Draco through the streets of Hogsmeade.

Above the moving photograph it read: WANTED & MISSING: SEVERUS SNAPE; and below: Have we been wrong in trusting him this whole time? Snape released Barty Crouch Jr. & now he’s fled. Death Eater loyalties never die.

“These are all over the place?”

“All over the place, sir. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, just outside this building.”

“Get them down.” Shacklebolt commanded and the aide rushed out of the room, slipping and nearly falling as he went.

“I want reports on the Carrow’s residence within 10 minutes. Hermione, you better get back to Hogwarts. You’re probably going to have a slew of parents’ letters to deal with. If we can have Harry’s teaching load covered as much as possible, I think we better put him back on the streets.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said meekly.

“No one better breathe a word of what we’ve discussed in here today to anyone outside this room. Understand?”

Shacklebolt looked around the room as a chorus of “ayes” and “yeses” accompanied by nods resounded around the room.

* * *

Snape fell to his knees, a harsh shove on his back compelling him to do so. His head was covered with some cloth-like device and he felt groggy like his mind had been drugged. His hands were bound behind his back with both a rope and some kind of magical spell, he sensed.

The cloth sack covering his head was pulled off his in a quick and jerking motion as he struggled to retain his balance on his knees. When he finally got his bearings he realized he was in the middle of a forest; at dusk or dawn, he couldn’t quite tell, but only faint twilight could be seen through the trees. As he gained more awareness, he could tell that he had, indeed, been drugged with some kind of potion. But his senses and mind had been altered so much he couldn’t figure out what potion had been used. He could barely remember what had happened before he had been drugged and apparently abducted. Three shadowy figures stood in front of him, one of them casually tossing a small object in the air and catching it in his right hand; over and over and over.

“Where am I?” Snape growled. The response was only laughter.

Snape struggled to loosen the grip on his wrists, trying to focus his mind on possible counter-spells, but the effort proved to be too taxing; a polluting haze hung over his mind, limiting his cognitive and magical skills. It felt like a large weight was bearing down on his magic, suppressing and suffocating it. He heard a groan near him and looked over to see Draco in the same position as he; on his knees, his hands bound behind him.

“Draco has served me well,” the man tossing the stone in the air finally spoke up, noticing Snape’s glance.

Draco murmured something incoherently, apparently under the same mind-altering spell that had been used on Snape.

“Draco, Draco, Draco…” the speaker clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to mark his disapproval, “He was most unwilling to help, but I still needed him to serve my purpose.” The shadowed figure walked over to Draco and slapped him across the face, a brutal sound in an otherwise peacefully still night. Snape winced at the movement, his body jerked in response to the sound.

“And hello to you, _professor_ ,” the speaker turned towards Snape again, stepping closer now, a sneer on his face.

“Theodore Nott,” Snape sneered back, recognizing the young man now as he came closer, looming over Snape.

“It’s a shame we are meeting again under such circumstances.”

“Draco,” Snape hissed weakly, looking at the other young man next to him.

“Draco didn’t actually _do_ anything himself. Don’t be too upset with him, professor. I merely used him like a pawn, that weak-willed ferret. Professor Moody was right about him when he transformed him into one, or shall I say Professor Crouch Jr., who, by the way, just happens to be right over there.” Theodore’s dark profile turned as he pointed at a large square cage about 20 feet away.

“Amycus, why don’t you alert our good pet that we have guests?”

The tall, slender figure banged a stick against the bars of the cage, the rattling sound echoing throughout the forest. Snape saw something on the ground stir when Amycus used the stick to poke and prod through the bars.

Barty Crouch Jr. woke and made a startling growl, sounding more like an animal than a human.

Draco shifted on his knees, his eyes wide with horror. Snape could see that he was fidgeting his hands and arms, trying to free himself. Theodore noticed this as well.

“Ah, but you won’t be able to free yourself, I’m afraid. We’ve secured you in more ways than one. But I do thank you for your service, your _body,_ in particular. The Imperius Curse worked like a charm.” Theodore smiled in a sickingly sweet way. He turned back towards Snape.

“Glad you’re finally conscious. You’ve been out cold for a day,” Theodore smiled slyly, resuming his tossing of the stone. “We need to have a chat. I have a proposition for you.”

* * *

“Here is your tea, dear,” McGonagall smiled sadly at Ginny. “Thank you for humoring an old witch and coming over. I’m sure you have other things you’d much rather be doing this afternoon.” McGonagall moved around stiffly to the other armchair in her cottage. She gave Ginny a tight lipped smile as she sat.

“Not at all,” Ginny replied, blowing on her tea. “I’m happy to visit you.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come over.”

Ginny gave her former professor a quizzical look. “I assumed you wanted company? I know you were close friends with Snape. I’m sure this is all really hard for you,” Ginny gave McGonagall an empathetic look over her teacup.

“Yes indeed,” McGonagall paused, looking down at her hands sadly, “but I actually have something specific I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Ginny’s interest was entirely piqued now as she sipped her tea.

“I have it on good authority that you’ve also grown close with Severus over the last few weeks, is that true?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t told anyone she was having weekly tea with Snape except for mentioning it to Harry the first week it occurred. “And who is your source?” she asked slyly as McGonagall shrugged like it was nothing.

“Oh I’m not at liberty-“

“The portraits. Dumbledore’s portrait.” Ginny narrowed her eyes. By the look on McGonagall’s face Ginny knew she was correct. McGonagall looked sheepish as she smoothed her skirt around her thighs.

“Well I’m happy that he has another friend. Stubborn man, always tries to keep himself isolated. It’s not good for his health,” McGonagall tried to brush off her intimate knowledge of Ginny and Snape’s friendship.

“Where is Dumbledore’s other portrait?”

McGonagall sighed. “It’s in the Ministry of Magic, outside the Wizengamot chamber. I go to meet my friend, Ursula Canady, who is a current member, from time to time. We lunch together. I was there the other day and struck up a conversation with him. Now, are you done interrogating me, Mrs. Weasley-Potter?”

Ginny held up her hands and grinned. “I’m just following your lessons, professor. Always think things through thoroughly.’”

McGonagall shook her head but couldn’t restrain a smile any longer. “Oh Ginny, you were always one of my favorite students. Bright and clever. _Not_ as obnoxious as most of your brothers.”

Ginny straightened, her smile widening. “Thank you,” she said in a sugary sweet voice. 

A House Elf popped into the room holding a small plate of biscuits. “Here have a biscuit, my dear. Now, tell me, how are you feeling after these last few days?”

Ginny bit into her biscuit, drizzled with honey, and chewed slowly, trying to surmise and put into words just _what_ she felt.

“I…I _know_ he’s innocent and I never doubted that. And I don’t think he’s trying to hide. That’s not in his nature. I know it looks like he went with Draco voluntarily, but…I just have a feeling something else happened.”

“Mmmm,” McGonagall hummed, nodding her head solemnly. “I feel very much the same way.” She put her cup down on the end table next to her chair.

“He’s still alive. I know it. I can _feel_ it. But something bad has happened,” Ginny continued, her face deeply pensive like she was trying to envision what had happened.

“I want to tell you something.” McGonagall stood up abruptly, her black gown rustling as she moved past the chair and over to the shelves that lined the other side of the room. “Something that I’ve never told anyone. Only Albus knows.” She reached for the small Pensieve she had on one of the top shelves, near some books. “Or, rather show you something.”

Ginny’s eyes widened as McGonagall brought the stone bowl across the room. Apparently she would now play secret keeper for McGonagall, after having already stored away Snape’s memories of Hermione only days before. She groaned inwardly; this was a burden too great to bear.

“I’m showing this to you for a couple of reasons,” McGonagall continued as she pulled a silvery thread from her head. “Snape _will_ return, it is only a matter of time. He and Hermione still have a string of fate binding them, connecting them. And in case something were to happen to me I feel it necessary to pass along this information. Albus agrees; in fact, it was his idea.”

Ginny stared at the bowl with a grim expression, her lips drawn into a straight line. She dreaded whatever McGonagall wanted to show her, instinctively having a bad feeling about it.

“You’re so sure Snape will come back?”

“Yes. I am absolutely sure of it. These memories is from April 1998. Professor Trelawney made another prophecy that evening.”

Ginny continued to stare at the bowl, every part of her mind urging her not to view the memory and just leave.

“Go on,” McGonagall encouraged.

Ginny sighed, grabbed both sides of the bowl and plunged her head in. She immediately felt the falling sensation and then landed in the headmaster’s office, seeing Dumbledore and McGonagall standing over Trewlaney, who trembled on the floor.

 **“The dark lord approaches…  
** **The girl with ‘very little aura’ is called…against her will…  
** **To the place where the Grindylows sleep  
** **She will go to the one whom you trust  
** **They are in** _grave_ danger…”

**“Seven will approach seven, in the seventh year  
** **Evil will not rest.  
** **The two who will rot in the cage  
** **The two who held hands at birth  
** **Two pureblood snakes, coiled together in marriage  
** **The one thought to be eliminated by a kiss  
** **The Outside threatens those Within…”**

**“But he, the sufferer of unrequited love,  
** **The cycle of love and love lost will carry on,  
** **Until he confesses his love  
** **For the lion, the Healer, the Maiden; earth in her veins  
** **The one with whom a blood bond binds”**

**“The harmony comes slowly,  
** **Willing, she will be, the second time  
** **The Healer will shield the Sage with her love  
** **He will find the redemption and solace he desires,  
** **But only through the shedding of her blood”**

_Trelawney fell silent, the room thick with tension as her head rolled to the side and she fell unconscious. McGonagall dragged her eyes up from Trelawney’s body on the floor to Dumbledore’s._

_“Albus…who is the prophecy about? The lion, the healer, the maiden?”_

_Dumbledore studied McGonagall’s face, his eyes calculating._

_“Severus…” he began._

_“Oh dear.” McGonagall frowned._

_“and I believe it to be Hermione.”_

_“Albus!”_

_“I know,” he replied, his face stern, his eyes grim._

_“How long have you known?”_

_“A couple of months.” He began to pace his office, his hands behind his back as the edge of his robe stroked the floor._

_“Oh dear…” McGonagall was clearly in shock as she looked back at Trelawney._

_“Sybill will be fine. The process her body and mind goes through to make a prophecy is really quite taxing.  She’ll sleep it off and won’t remember a thing when she wakes up.”_

_McGonagall nodded, still looking unsure and wringing her hands in front of her._

The memory swirled and Ginny felt like she was floating in circles for a few seconds before the vision steadied and she once again found herself in the headmaster’s office, McGonagall on one side of the desk, Dumbledore on the other. Sunlight filtered in through the window, different from the dark moonlight that accompanied the memory of Trelawney’s prophecy.

_“But why her, Albus?” McGonagall sat stiffly. Ginny could tell her from her body language and tone that she was upset with Dumbledore._

_“Because she is naturally suited for him.”_

_“How so?” McGonagall bristled._

_“Think of his only friend when he was a student at Hogwarts.”_

_“Lily Evans.” McGonagall didn’t miss a beat, the answer right on the tip of her tongue._

_“Indeed. Hermione resembles Lily in certain ways, does she not?”  
_

_“_ _Yes…in a few ways. But she’s vastly different in other ways.”_

_“And perhaps those other ways are the ingredients for a better match.”_

_“Albus Dumbledore…are you playing matchmaker?”_

_“I never said anything about a romantic match,”_

_“But she’s SO young.”_

_“Right now, yes. But she’s always been more mature than her fellow students…even the older pupils. Plus, I daresay she may have gained a year with that Time-Turner,” he winked._

_“How much of this did you orchestrate, Albus?” McGonagall sat back in her chair in a huff._

_“Some, not all. Let’s just say the stars aligned and gave me perspective.”_

_“Are you sure it’s her?”_

_“Quite. I was studying the Ancient Runes texts. Their signs align.”_

* * *

Hermione sat with her legs tucked under her in an oversized armchair, staring at the pale blue and purple hues painting the twilight sky. She was in Snape’s-nay, now her-office. The news of Snape’s disappearance had officially broke to the public and she had been spending most of her time as the new headmistress answering letters from upset parents, reiterating the Ministry’s message: There is no conclusive evidence yet, there is an ongoing investigation conducted by the Ministry. A few students had been pulled from the school. Other parents threatened to do so. Distrust towards the former Death Eater was revived and festering again. Even the professors were on edge, some of them visibly torn about what to feel. Her Saturday had been draining to say the least.

The last two days she had absolutely no appetite. Her nights were filled with the same reoccurring dreams; she was either trapped and alone in a dark pit with only her mind to keep her company or she was throwing her body in front of someone, that someone she assumed to be Snape, as something attacked them. Sometimes it was Nagini. Other times it was a bright flash of light. It was always a searing pain that course through her even in her dream state. She woke up that morning in a cold sweat, shaking and crying.

Another letter flew in through the fireplace. She ignored it and turned back to look out the window. _Where is he? Why did he leave? He wouldn’t have willingly left us; that’s not like him at all._ She just _knew_ Harry was wrong. In all honesty, she was glad to have him leave Hogwarts for all but one class as he went back to a full time Auror position. Only his class with the 7th years created a scheduling issue with no professors suited to take it on, so she had retained him for that, while she, Neville, and two other professors took his other classes. Vector had stepped up to the deputy position and now took over the day to day issues, trying to relieve Hermione from as much of the burden as possible as she taught 2 years of DADA classes, all 7 years of Potions, kept up with Ministry and Thunderbird operations, and dealt with angry parents. It was no wonder that Hermione thought she might be losing her mind. In a way it was nice that she barely had time to dwell on and miss Snape.

Now, she found she couldn’t pry herself away from the chair by the window and from thinking about Snape. The office didn’t feel like hers, though. It still smelled like him, his books were still there. She had peeked inside his rooms, but couldn’t bring herself to go in. _He has to come back, he just has to,_ she pleaded to an unknown source. She saw Hagrid walking along the edge of the forest, looking lonesome and forlorn. _We’re all just barely surviving it seems._

Dramatic snoring drew her attention away from the window as she looked across the room at Armando Dippet’s portrait. She sighed and looked around the room at the rest of the professors she assumed were only feigning sleep. Finally her eyes fell on Dumbledore’s portrait, but he wasn’t pretending to asleep, instead he was staring at her with a contemplative expression.

“Do you know where he is?” she asked accusingly.

“No, Ms. Granger, I’m afraid I don’t.”

She steadily held his gaze, her eyes fiery as they met his icy blue pair.

“Did you know he was going to leave?”

“I assure you I did not. He is a man of his word, Ms. Granger, and if he said he was going to London to turn himself in to the Muggle government then he was planning on going to London.”

She let out a short breath and pulled on the sleeves of her sweater. She saw Phineas Black pop one eye open to glance at her.

“Ms. Granger, what are you going to do when he returns?”

She looked back up at Dumbledore with curiosity. The former headmaster’s voice was calm and steady and she was struck by the confidence in his eyes.

“What will you say to him when he returns?” Dumbledore continued his line of questioning before she could speak.

She shook her head sadly. “How do you know he’ll come back?”

“He will. I know it.”

“I suppose I’ll ask him where he’s been.”

“Do you love him, Ms. Granger?”

“Do I love him!? That is an awfully personal question, sir!”

The other portraits opened their eyes now, watching the exchange.

“But the only question that perhaps matters.”

“I can think of a lot of questions that matter at the moment!”

Dumbledore continued to calmly stare at her, stoking her annoyance and maddening her. She jumped out the chair, rushing to grab her coat and a scarf.

“I do not have to sit here and listen to this!” she huffed angrily. “You’re meddlesome and shame on you!” She flung the door open and ran down the stairs.

“Well that went well,” Phineas quipped.

Outside Hermione walked quickly and furiously. It was nearly dark but she didn’t care. A cold wind pulled at the tendrils of curls that hung around her head and neck, the rest of her hair thrown up into a lopsided messy bun. The March evening was chilly but she didn’t notice.

“Am I in love with him?!” she mimicked Dumbledore out loud. “What is he even thinking!?” It didn’t matter if she loved him or not, they had to find him! They had to figure out what was going on! They had to fight back!

She began to slow her pace, staring at the trees along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, as realization set in. Dumbledore saw right through the situation, as he always did.

She did love Snape. She couldn’t ignore how she really felt any longer. She had deeply wounded him and now he was gone. And she was left with a gaping wound in her heart. If only she could go back in time and reconsider so many decisions. If only she hadn’t held him at arm’s length and then pushed him away. If only she could tap into her emotions and allow herself to feel and _be_ vulnerable with others.

“I love him,” she whispered incredulously as it set in. A gust of cold wind picked up again, both caressing and stinging her face. She blinked as her daze waned. Dumbledore’s words echoed in her mind. _“What will you say to him when he returns?”_

* * *

“No! _No._ ” Ginny pulled her head back up, shaking. “What does it _mean_?” she questioned, her voice filled with agitation.

“I do not know for sure-“

“We have to tell her,” Ginny’s cried frantically.

“You run the risk of disrupting and thereby altering the prophecy if you do.”

“Why did you show this to me then? You had to have known that I would tell her. I can’t keep something like this a secret!”

McGonagall paused, casting her eyes downward as she thought through her answer. “I only ask that you give it some thought before you decide to tell her. Please understand that if you try to change the outcome of the prophecy it could lead to more devastating circumstances.”

Ginny slumped down into a chair. “I wish you wouldn’t have told me,” she murmured, rubbing her forehead with her right hand.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have,” McGonagall admitted, sounding ashamed.

“She’s going to die?”

“Ginevra,” McGonagall rushed to her, taking her hand.

“She’s going to die,” Ginny said more forcefully, this time not as a question.

“We don’t know exactly what the prophecy means, but…it would seem that way.”

Ginny’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Her throat felt thick, her eyes heavy.

“When will all this madness end?” her voice cracked, her eyes wide with shock.

* * *

Snape’s eyes were trained on the black stone that Theodore continued to toss.

“And what is your proposition?”

“I want you to join us. You’re such a valuable asset.”

“Who is us?!” Snape spat out, actual spit flying from his mouth as he asked.

Theodore chuckled. “Alecto and Amycus, of course. With all due respect, professor, I would have thought you would have pieced that together already.” Theodore refrained from explicitly incriminating the Carrow twins.

“Why are you doing this, Nott?”

Draco moaned again, the potion poisoning clearly affecting him more than it had Snape.

“I’m doing this to rebuild and strengthen our kind.”

“By causing havoc?”

“I’m bringing the institution down; the Ministry must crumble. It’s the only way we can refortify our community. We need stronger leadership. What we have now is a joke. Now, what say you? Will you join our cause? Will you help us rebuild our community? To protect it better?”

“ _No_ ,” Snape growled through clenched teeth.

“Ah, I thought you might say that. That’s why I have this,” Theodore looked at the stone he held thoughtfully. “Do you recognize this, professor?” Theodore’s voice turned soft and light as he stared fondly at the dark stone in his hand. “It’s such a small object, but with so much power to entice.”

When Snape didn’t answer, Theodore continued. “It’s something I heard so much about growing up. You see, my nanny used to read Beedle the Bard’s tales to me. Even my dad talked about the lore of this object.” Theodore held it up to inspect it.

“Where did you get that? That doesn’t belong to you,” Snape grunted, narrowing his eyes at Theodore.

Theodore ignored him. “You know, I heard a rumor once, while I was working at the Ministry, that you had once been in love with a former classmate of mine’s dead mother.” Theodore laughed bitterly and looked back at Snape, raising his eyebrows.

“Where did you hear that?!”

“I told you, at the Ministry. Lunch time gossip I guess you could call it.” Theodore shrugged. “That’s how you were exonerated from your Death Eater crimes, was it not? I always wondered how you got off so easily.”

“What?” Snape was genuinely confused and not because of whatever potion he’d been drugged with. He wracked his mind, trying to file through the memories of what he knew after he had woken from his snake bite induced coma.

“Well, anyway, it made me curious, since my father was a fellow Death Eater and he trusted you as one. Why were you exonerated? No trial at all. Curious thing. So I did a little investigating. Similar investigating I did to find our friend Barty,” he nodded back at the caged man with his head. “And I found the rumor to be true.”

Snape’s eyes widened with horror.

“Ah, yes, I know your secret. Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone. Yet. Did you know that Harry Potter testified on your behalf to get your exonerated? He did so secretly, but the records _are_ archived in the Ministry if you know where to look.” Theodore began tossing the stone again, pacing in front of Snape now. “Yes, Potter had some of Dumbledore’s precious memories it seems. Memories that proved your true allegiance, which was apparently to his mother first and foremost, then to Dumbledore. Love drove you to become a spy, how quaint,” Theodore sneered. He looked at Snape, hoping for an outraged response. Snape maintained a stony expression, his eyes appearing lifeless.

“So, as a token of my goodwill to you, I want to give you this, the resurrection stone. You can be reunited with the love of your life.” Theodore held the stone out in his palm.

“Lily will be all yours if you accept my proposal and join me. Would you like to see her again? Her green eyes and red hair? Hear her voice again?”

Lily formed in Snape’s mind. A young, healthy woman, smiling and laughing. _Lily, I would take you in a heartbeat._ The vision looked back at him quizzically. _Really Severus?_ She seemed to ask. The Mirror of Erised flashed before his mind. Lily fading. Hermione approaching, but this time he didn’t feel angry. It felt natural to have Hermione appear before him. _Hermione. I need my girl._

“No,” Snape responded darkly.

“Oh, but why not?”

“It doesn’t work as simple as that. Did you even pay attention to Beedle’s story?”

“We’ll never know for sure unless you take it.”

“I won’t.”

“Professor, you’re willing to give up the love of your life _and_ let this community fall into danger?”

Snape’s jaw twitched.

“I’m not letting you go if you refuse me,” Theodore warned.

A brief pause fell between them, interrupted by Draco falling over on his side. He had passed out again.

Theodore shook his head in disgust. “Weakling.”

“You had so much potential, why are you wasting it on these machinations?” Snape’s eyes flashed; his words hit Theodore harder than Snape had predicted. Theodore’s face twisted in agony as his anger finally got the best of him.

“I do still have potential and I’m not wasting it! My cause is an important cause! You and your government are making us Wizards weak! You’re making us a disgrace to our ancestors! You’re letting the Muggles walk all over us and control us! They will ruin us!” Theodore yelled hoarsely, his face reddening. “That pathetic excuse you call the Minister is weak! Wizardkind will not be controlled! We will not be bullied and we will not be defenseless!” Tears filled Theodore’s eyes.

Snape observed his former student. Theodore looked so emotionally raw and vulnerable in that moment and it caught Snape by surprise. This was a man who wasn’t just power hungry, this was a man filled with so much fear and anxiety that he trembled with anger and terror. In his mind, his plan was the only way to secure the safety for the wizards, to protect their kind. He was maniacal, but not like Voldemort or Grindelwald. Snape could tell that the fear that festered within him had taken over his mind so much that the former pupil who once demonstrated calm thinking, now couldn’t restrain himself from allowing his emotions to take over and dominate his line of thinking.

“Theodore,” Snape entreated, his voice gentle but urgent, “you have a point. I understand you. But your tactics are wrong.”

“No, they’re not!”

“Come, let me out of these binds and let’s discuss this more.”

“No, you’re not fooling me. I have to have your promise that you will stand by me. I will give you the resurrection stone in exchange for the Unbreakable Vow.”

Snape shook his head. “No.”

Theodore’s eyes flashed. “You will live to regret this.”

* * *

Ron arrived at work to hear the sound of sniffling, but an apparently empty room. The sound quieted for a moment as he hung up his jacket and he shrugged it off. Shuffling across the office, he began to rifle through the stack of papers on the desk, hearing the sniffles resume, accompanied by a faint whimper this time. Someone was crying. He looked around again.

“Hello?” he called out with uncertainty. The room quieted again, but now he had the impression that someone was hidden. He moved around the desk and saw Tonks, huddled on the floor, shaking as she sobbed silently, tears rolling down her blotchy red face, her hair looking ragged and untamed. Her knees were pulled up to her chest as she leaned against the other side of the desk, holding her head in one of her hands. She wore oversized black cargo pants and a white tank top, looking pale and thinner than usual.

“ _Tonks_ ,” Ron cried, rushing to her side, kneeling at eye level in front of her. “Tonks, what’s wrong? Why are you hiding?” He looked over her face frantically. Her dark eyes had purplish circles underneath.

“I…I…I’m so tired,” she stammered out between the hiccups that crept up.

“Oh, Tonks,” Ron gave her a sympathetic look, his voice soothing and gentle. “When was the last time you slept more than a couple of hours at a time?”

“I…I slept…I don’t even know! I can barely even think straight!”

Ron gently took either side of her face, holding her jaw and cheeks between his hands, assessing her carefully.

“But that’s not even why I’m crying. I’m used to being stressed out because of work. I just miss Teddy so much!” The tears began to flood out of her eyes again, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “I’ve barely seen him lately. I miss him so much and I feel like such a bad mother.”

Ron began to caress her skin softly with his thumbs as he continued to hold her face and watch her. “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Tonks tried to stabilize her breathing, meeting his eyes now. “ _I’m_ sorry. This is entirely unprofessional.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m going daft with all of this and I don’t have a child or wife that I have to look after. You’re so strong. I hope you know that.” Ron stared at her earnestly, continuing to gently stroke his thumbs along her jaw line.

She swallowed as the hiccups began to subside. She hadn’t been touched by a man since Remus, other than the occasional brotherly and friendly hug from Harry. She soaked his touch in without really registering that it was Ron, in the workplace. In that moment she just needed the calming touch and words he was offering.

Ron had just acted intuitively. He felt such compassion for Tonks, such admiration of her strength. Touching her felt instinctive and natural in that moment. He stared into her eyes and realized just how beautiful she really was; it didn’t matter if she wore makeup, was balling her eyes out, altered her appearance, changed her hair, or even brushed her hair, he found that everything about her exuded beauty and vitality.

For a moment he thought he might kiss her. For a moment he desperately wanted to. But he shook himself out of that spell, realizing that even if she returned his kiss she was feeling very vulnerable and emotional at the moment. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if he kissed her now. He didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. She was exhausted and she was aching for her son.

“Go home, I’ll combine our duties today,” he assured her.

“Ron, no. You already help me-“

“I’m serious. It’s Sunday. I want you to get Teddy from your mum’s and spend the day with him. Go outside and get fresh air. Take a nap. Have a meal together.”

She shook her head wearily. “How can I ever repay you for all the nice things you do for me, for us.”

“Bring me some chocolate when you come back,” he burst into a huge boyish grin. She returned his smile and rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply as her nerves finally started to settle and become calm. “Here, let me help you up.” He held out his hands so he could help her stand.

“Thank you,” she thanked him warmly. Their fingers lingered before drifting apart and to their sides. She turned, rubbing her face, feeling achy from crying so hard.

“I hope Teddy still remembers who I am,” she joked, walking stiffly to the door. She grabbed a sweater that laid across the back of a chair and threw it down over her arms and torso. Stretching her neck from side to side she turned again as she grabbed her purse.

“Ron, you are too good to me.”

“Nonsense. Don’t be absurd.”

“I don’t deserve everything you do for Teddy and I.”

“Not true at all,” he mused, beginning to go through the paperwork again. “You are a single mother, and a terrific one at that. You deserve to spend some time with your kid and to have a little down time. Now get outta here.” Ron tried to make his voice no nonsense, but he never fully captured the commanding tone someone like Snape possessed. Still, Tonks gave him a small smile before following his command and quickly fleeing the room.

Ron glanced back down at the paperwork, the feel of her skin still imprinted on his fingers.

* * *

“It is time that we had leadership that can actually protect us! Our numbers are dwindling. Our autonomy is dwindling. The very essence of our identity is diminishing! The Muggle government has seen to that and will continue to see to that unless we make it known that we will not be bullied!”

Shouts from the crowd responded to Theodore’s voice as he stood on a step, crying out passionately before a crowd at Diagon Alley.

“Do we have confidence in Minister Shacklebolt? Let us not fool ourselves. Have any of us in our lifetime had a stable, strong minister? We continue to cycle through the terror. Grindelwald, Voldemort, the Muggles! When will the terror stop!?”

The crowd roared in approval again.

“I call for Shacklebolt to be removed from office! I call for the whole Ministry to be reformed! It’s the 21st Century, it’s _our_ century! Let us take charge of it! Let us get rid of the archaic ways! Who is with me?!”

The crowd went wild, cheering, shouting, clapping. Theodore looked around at them, his chest rising and falling as he weighed their approval.

* * *

Snape had to get away. He knew he should try to take on and actually fight Nott and the Carrows, but with his magic still drained, only returning to him very slowly, it wasn’t really a possibility at the moment. If only he could defeat them now, he’d save the rest of the Order a whole lot of problems.

He rolled over, craning his neck to get a better look around. He saw Alecto and Amycus in the distance, gathered around a fire and warming their hands; making plans to dispose of him no doubt. He was surprised he was still alive after refusing Theodore’s offer. It was only a matter of time, though. Theodore would make sure that he suffered for refusing him.

He looked around, trying to locate Nott himself, but to no avail. Draco was still passed out just a few feet away from him, his blonde hair falling over his face. Snape wiggled his arms, pulling at the binds. Snape still had no idea where he was exactly. Was it possible to apparate? Had enough of his magic returned? It was his best bet to make a speedy getaway.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. It took a couple of minutes but he felt a nudge in his mind. If he kept trying he thought he could do it, but it would be taxing and draining. Still, he needed to try. He needed to get away from these maniacs. He needed to warn the Order. He needed to find his girl.

_I am good, I am grounded  
_ _I can’t get my head around it  
_ _I keep feeling smaller and smaller  
_ _I need my girl  
_ _I’m under the gun again  
_ _I know I was a 45 percenter then  
_ _I know I was a lot of things  
_ _I need my girl_

 

* * *

 

 **Will they be reunited in the next chapter?! Will they?!**  

 **A/N #2-** ok, so we had some more Pensieve memories. I decided to go the more normal route of viewing them (like the books/movies), unlike what Snape experienced with Hermione’s memories in Chapter 10. My explanation for how I changed it relates back to the magical blood bond they share (which I couldn’t tell you right then in Chapter 10 because that would be spoiling future chapters).

The reference in the prophecy to: **the lion, the Healer, the Maiden; earth in her veins,** is based on Hermione (Gryffindor; Virgo is earth, its sign is a Maiden, and also known as a Healer)

If you like my writing and like Star Wars/Reylo check out my new story: Spectrum!

 **S/O-** Thanks to all my readers, but special thanks to my reviewers from the last couple of chapters! I appreciate you! **etherina,** **SouthernBelle50+, FrancineHibiscus, usurpator, Grooot, Ama, Sacha’s Girl, Sandeebeache5, Lunarose87, red2013, Vidyya, kid_n_the_hall, BratGirl1983, AngryTimeLadyClara, Taylor Thomas, Reine, eliseroseblack, Persknickety, Don’t_Defy_Me, allthingszuko**

I’m sorry I’ve been slow on updates! I’m back at work after the holiday break and I’m a moderator on a Star Wars forum, as well as doing a podcast now. But like I’ve said before, I won’t abandon this story. I mean, I can’t now! We’re so close to the end! xoxo


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-We’re doing yet another Pensieve scene again so as a reminder:
> 
>  **Reading Guide to this Chapter** : Hermione will be witnessing some of Snape's memories. The _italics_ will indicate that it’s a memory. If it’s Snape’s thoughts within his own memories then they’ll appear in **_bold italics_**. Hermione will experience his memories the same way he experienced hers back in Chapter 10: everything you’re reading/visualizing is also everything Hermione is seeing too.
> 
> Song quoted at the beginning: Living on a Wire by Nitin Sawhney 
> 
> Be prepared for some Snamione-centric lemony goodness ahead!

 

_Now I’m left with all the words I could not say;  
_ _I’m the same as I was, but I’m waiting in the rain,  
_ _could wait here all my life, dreaming of another day,  
_ _remember one time, relight the same old fire,  
_ _I’m waiting in the cold, living on a wire._

Snape squeezed his eyes shut, his head trembling, his skin damp with sweat that cooled instantaneously from the chill of the air. _Focus, Severus,_ he sternly instructed himself. Gritting his teeth he tried to center all his energy on apparating. For the briefest of moments he felt the dizzying sensation, his mind starting to pull him through space to another location. His pulse quickened, his body stiffened. But he did not succeed, despite his effort.

He let out his breathe, realizing he had been holding it. Opening his eyes he focused on the dark trees in front of him. He could tell it was day, but the woods were dense and the sun seemed filtered anyway; he suspected it was gray and cloudy.

Breathing in deeply he closed his eyes again. If life had taught him nothing else, it at least taught him patience, perseverance, and determination. He felt the pull of magic a bit more this second attempt, but still lay there on the ground near Draco. He heard Amycus and Alecto’s voices and winced, wishing he had enough strength to just kill them right then. He’d take pleasure in ending their lives, making sure they felt the agony they had put so many others through in the past as Death Eaters. Snape grew so angry as he thought back to his Death Eater days that he realized he was grinding his teeth. Relaxing his jaw he sighed. He had to get out of there now, before Nott returned. Time was of the essence.

This third time he imagined Hermione’s face when he closed his eyes. He smelled the sweet vanilla scent associated with her; it calmed his nerves, easing the tension within his body. He pictured her curls that were still prone to fluff when it was humid; he remembered the softness of her skin. He missed her expressions, the way she couldn’t seem to hide her annoyance, especially when it came to him. He remembered the first day he kissed her. The day after the Quidditch game, it seemed so long ago when it had only been 6 months. He had intentionally antagonized her just to amuse himself. He had pinned her against her desk in the Potions classroom, completely surprising her.

Snape kept focusing on the memories, as his magic began to swell and respond to him.

_He opened the card, staring at the words again, running his fingers over the letters of her name signed at the bottom.  
_ _“Dear Severus,  
_ _I wanted to write everyone a little note before the holidays to spread some cheer and thank them for all their hard work in helping the students and for the way everyone has accepted me back into Hogwarts as an equal.  
_ _More specifically I wanted to thank you for the book suggestion you gave in Hogsmeade, I’ve only started the book but it’s quite fascinating so far. I enjoyed your company that afternoon and I wish we could have had more time to talk. I appreciate you checking in with me about your Slytherin students, it meant a lot to me.  
_ _Happy holidays and I hope you enjoy the break.  
_ _Cordially,  
_ _Hermione_

_"Happy birthday.” Hermione stood at his bedroom door, like she had done the night they went to Hogsmeade.  
_ _“Who said it was my birthday?”  
_ _“A little birdie told me so.”  
_ _She had bought him a gift: a cigar and Firewhisky._

_Hours in the Potions lab making the Scar Diminishing Salve…hours at Hog’s Head discussing books…_

_"Hermione, you’re positively glowing with happiness. You look prettier than a Veela,” Luna addressed her now.  
_ _“Oh, gosh,” Hermione ran a hand over the side of her head, touching her hair, ear, and the scar on her neck lightly. “I…thanks, Luna.” She blushed.  
_ _“Are you two dating now?” Luna asked innocently, looking back and forth between Snape and Hermione.  
_ _Hermione’s blushed deepened. “No,” she said loudly, laughing nervously. “We’re friends…you know, since I teach at Hogwarts now.”_

_"You seem have a lot of confidence in the future of this relationship.”  
_ _Hermione grinned. “I do, because I think you actually enjoy spending time with me, even if you’d never admit to it.”_

_Dancing at Harry and Ginny’s wedding in the moonlight. His hand on her waist, her head leaning on his shoulder._

_Hermione gasped and before Snape could realize what was happening her arms were around his neck, her face buried in his hair and neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears. In shock, he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her and struggling to gain control of his breathing, as relief of his own sank in.  
_ _“We did it, we did it,” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. He felt a stir within him, jolt of electricity in his heart.  
_ _She pulled her head away but left her arms around his neck as she looked up at him, the gold flecks in her brown eyes more visible now than ever before. He returned her stare, neither of them moving. Their stare seemed to say more than their words ever had. Lost in the moment they both failed to realize that their heads had grown closer, inch by inch.  
_ _He held her firmly. Her lips were slightly parted and oh so enticing. When she closed her eyes he worked up the nerve to close the gap between their lips, almost touching-  
_ _The doors burst open and Shacklebolt flanked by Harry and Neville entered. Snape and Hermione jumped apart from each other._

_"What is your problem?!” she exclaimed with a wild look in her eyes. He wanted to get her riled up. Oh how much he enjoyed wild, raging Hermione. The spark in her eyes. The twitch in her lips. The color on her cheeks. It was all intoxicating.  
_ _“You’re my problem.”  
_ _Her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?! If you think I’m so insufferable then you should have reconsidered asking me to be your deputy! Then we wouldn’t have to spend time together! I’m terribly sorry I’m so awful to be around, but mark my words, Severus Snape, you’re not all that wonderful to be around either! You’re a stubborn git who quite frankly gets on my nerves far too often!”  
_ _He smirked. “Are you quite finished?” His voice was calmer now, which threw her off.  
_ _“No and-“  
_ _“Be quiet, Granger.” He sauntered closer to her, desperate for her, craving her._

_“I wouldn’t be loud.” She raised her chin more out of habit, but decided to embrace the indignant look anyway.  
_ _“I want you to be loud,” his voice sounding like rolling thunder, dark and stormy like his eyes.  
_ _A whimper escaped her lips._

_"Please,” she begged.  
_ _“What do you want me to do?”  
_ _“Kiss me.”_

_“You became one of my best friends before you left. And when you left I felt so…well let’s just say I didn’t handle it well. It was really hard, I really missed you. I missed talking to you and just having you around in general. I even missed your cynicism and sarcasm,” she laughed a bit as he rolled his eyes. What this is…it feels really intense, at least to me.”  
_ _“I agree,” he said quietly._

_He moved her hair to the side, lightly caressing her neck. Hermione didn’t seem to understand just why he was staring intently at her neck until she realized that he was running his fingers over her scar from Nagini’s attack. Reaching up she touched the fang marks that scarred his own skin, her eyes meeting his.  
_ _“I’m glad I came to find you that day,” she spoke earnestly.  
_ _His heart contracted, but he didn’t dare speak. Instead he pulled her in for another kiss, trying_ _to convey through his lips what he felt, what he couldn’t express through words._

_Surprising her with tickets to Les Mis at Queen’s Theater. The astonished look on her face that melted into pure joy and giddiness._

_Christmas at her cottage. Meeting her parents._

_Kissing the top of her head affectionately. Waking up to see her next to him, the morning light making her skin glow. Her laughter._

“Hermione,” he whispered as the magic finally surged through him, enough to pull him away from his captivity.

* * *

Two days into Easter break, Hermione found Hogwarts nearly empty, save for Hagrid, the House Elves, Mr. Filch who was still the caretaker, and Vector who had stayed behind both out of preference and to support Hermione. Hermione welcomed the quiet and empty halls; the repose.

The winter was quickly thawing into a cloudy and rainy spring, but Hermione didn’t mind. She found it refreshing and restoring; the rain would wash away the misery of the winter they just endured. Hermione resumed her outdoor walks, as she had done when Snape left the first time. The nature provided her the calm beauty she needed to overcome the harsh realities they all faced. She walked around the Black Lake, watching the stillness of the water, only rippling every so often from the activity of the creatures that lived within it. Passing the boathouse she reminisced the day she and Snape were attacked by Nagini.

 _What a long, strange time ago,_ she mused. She had been just a girl, of age of course, but feeling so much younger and more naïve about the world than as she was now. Her path seemed to cross with Severus’ in a way that seemed like…fate. But she didn’t believe in fate. Her logical mind told her that was nonsense. And yet…she and Snape seemed bound together by some unknown force during these large historical events in their world, the Wizard world. Even if they hadn’t formed a romantic relationship, their paths were undoubtedly ensnared.

She walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, deep in thought. The clouds could no longer contain their pregnant weight of water; their floodgates burst open and rain cascaded from the sky. Hermione laughed, holding out her hands to feel the water pelt against her palms. Her hair and clothes were soaked within minutes and she shivered, but she didn’t care. She felt carefree and relaxed in the moment as the rain continued to saturate both her and the earth. She looked around, admiring the landscape of the Scottish hills. Soon everything would be lush and green again. Soon the visible signs of life would return and assure everyone that there was, indeed, beauty in the world.

She tilted her face towards the sky, closing her eyes. The smell of the rain was intoxicating. She began to walk again, staying close to the forest’s tree line. The rain crackled as it hit the tree branches and the dead leaves that blanketed the soil within the forest. Hermione smiled to herself as she kept her eyes downcast now, the rain growing more insistent. She neared the school, preparing to cut across the open field and head inside when something caught her eye near the tree line. Through the mist she could see someone tall and pale, their dark hair blowing in the wind and rain, clad in black.

“Severus?” she whispered.

* * *

Severus laid completely still on his stomach for a few minutes, not quite believing his success. He opened his eyes to see trees, although now the air was misty. His magic was once again drained from the exertion, his mind exhausted, but as he turned his head to the other side he saw Hogwarts and sighed in relief. It had worked. He had made it just outside of Hogwarts. He wondered how Hermione was handling the headmistress position. At least he had written her a thoughtful note of directions and tips before he left, thinking he was headed to London for an indefinite amount of time.

She was probably livid at him for just up and disappearing; he was sure everyone assumed he fled. He wasn’t even sure how many days he had been missing, his mind couldn’t keep track when he had been in and out of a conscious state more than once and drugged to the point he felt delirious at times.

He tried to get up but his body ached so much he collapsed back on the ground, groaning. He felt a couple of raindrops on his face before the sky broke open and the rain washed over him. He lifted his head to get a better look at his surroundings. He rested for a couple of minutes, breathing deeply and rhythmically, trying to restore his strength. His arms were still bound behind him, he hadn’t bothered to work on countering that spell since he needed all his energy just to apparate. Moving his legs underneath him, he rolled onto his side then pushed up onto his knees from a fetal position. Every muscle screamed at him in resistance and at one point he thought he might fall over again as his right thigh cramped up.

But he managed to stand up, staggering forward, his balance off kilter. The rain dripped down the sides of his face and the bridge of his nose. Thick strands of his hair clung to his neck and face as he peered at the ground, blinking as his eyesight blurred momentarily.

When he looked up he saw her.

* * *

Hermione walked towards him slowly, as if in a trance, not quite believing he was standing in front of her. He stood completely still, watching her, his eyes large and dark.

“You came back,” she said breathlessly.

“I never meant to leave,” his voice was raspy from his mental and physical exertion.

A couple of tears rolled down her right cheek as her breath shook, continuing to stare at him in wonder.

“Why? How?” She shook her head looking him up and down, both of them oblivious to the cold rain continuing to drench them. She noticed his hands behind his back. “Are you…?” She stepped to his side, looking around him. “You’re bound!” she cried with concern.

He nodded weakly. “Nott used the Imperius Curse on Draco to lure me to him.”

She shook her head again, this time to pull herself out of her daze. “We need to get you inside, you’re freezing and shaking.” She slipped her arm through his and together they walked towards the castle, their arms pushed together, their steps in sync. She led him in through a door seldom used, continuing to guide him as she realized he was moving rigidly like he was in pain.

“Let’s go to your room.”

He hesitated in his step, a puddle forming around his feet on the flagstone.

“I don’t want anyone-“

“It’s Easter holiday. Only Vector and Filch are in the castle,” she reassured him gently.

They began to move again, through a corridor and then into the castle’s main hallway, towards the staircase to his, and now her, office. He hobbled, his muscles aching, the cold from the rain settling around his bones. His wet clothes added more weight to his step and his stomach felt like it was turning inside out from a lack of food or water.

“I don’t know if I can make it up the stairs,” he paused again, his forehead pinched, his temples bulging from his tense jaw.

Turning, she descended the two steps she had already taken and went to him. She touched both his arms, looking at him intensely. “I can apparate us into the office, can you bear that short distance? We need to get your hands free.”

“Just hold onto me tightly. It should work.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around his torso. Their eyes met and she swallowed as the spark between them pulsated, the fire relit, the chemistry crackling.

Snape looked nauseous as he wavered on his feet, regaining his balance. Hermione was already in motion, detangling the physical binds.

“It’s bound by magic too,” Snape informed her.

She went through a series of spells to free him, each one meeting resistance and sending sparks from his wrists back at her. He advised her but to no avail.

She frowned in deep concentration, staring at his hands as if they provided the answer. Snape’s pallor was only getting worse by the second, his skin starting to tinge blue, and she knew she needed to get him out of those wet clothes and warmed up. Her mind worked rapidly, churning over the possibilities.

“Try te solvo. Libero and strike your wand down vertically as if you were slicing a rope. Say it with vehemence,” Dumbledore offered from his portrait.

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her wand at Snape’s wrists with determination.

“Te solvo. Libero!”

His arms fell against his sides and he groaned as he reached to massage his wrists.

“Come, we have to get you warm,” she ushered him into his private rooms, the rooms she hadn’t touched or changed. She went to his wardrobe and pulled out fresh clothing.

“Strip,” she ordered in a bossy no nonsense tone. He followed her command and tugged at the various layers of wet clothing, each one clinging to his skin.

She helped him balance as he dressed, unabashed by the nakedness she had seen, touched, kiss so many times before. Finally after a few laborious minutes of the un-dressing and re-dressing routine she wrapped a large blanket around him rubbing his arms.

“Hermione…”

“It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“No…I want to tell you something.”

“Ok, well I just want you to rest and get warmed up-“

“Hermione,” he insisted, his eyes deeply penetrating her own, making her pause. “Hermione,” he repeated, his voice more gentle this time. He reached a hand up and cupped her cheek. “I had to get back to you. I had to see you again.”

She started to cry, the significance of the moment finally hitting her. _“What will you say to him when he returns?”_ Dumbledore’s words echoed in her mind. But Snape spoke again before she could respond.

“I want to show you some of my memories. _Please._ ”

She looked back and forth between his eyes pensively, but finally gave a quick nod. Turning she went back out into the office and grabbed the Pensieve. Snape had already gone to the table to wait for her, looking solemn and gaunt.

“Are you sure right now is a good time?” she asked worriedly, assessing him. “Maybe you should eat something or sleep for awhile.”

“No, I want to do this now. I’ve wasted enough time as is.” He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration as he pulled a few strands from his head, wincing as if extracting each one caused him a great deal of pain. “Three memories,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion, “starting with May 1998, one from last year, and a recent one.” He had both his hands propped up on the table, leaning his weight forward onto them. The amount of vulnerability she saw in his eyes startled her and she quickly dunked her head into the Pensieve eager to see what he so desperately wanted to show her.

She found herself in an out of body experience, literally. She was standing in an entirely different part of the boathouse, facing _him;_ Voldemort. She gasped, but no sound came out of her. _I’m Snape. I’m actually Snape in this memory,_ the realization stunned her. But Voldemort’s menacing voice quickly brought her back to attention and she sank back, letting Snape’s memory fully wash over her.

 _Snape’s mind prickled as he felt another presence nearby in the boathouse. But he had neither the time or energy to figure out who it was or why they were there. He supposed it had been another Death Eater, coming to give the Dark Lord security._ _Snape strengthened his Occlumency shields; he needed to focus on keeping his mind closed. He eyed the snake at Voldemort’s feet warily._

 _Voldemort’s words sliced into what was left of Snape’s heart._ _“I don’t need you anymore. And I certainly can’t have you interfering and helping the boy anymore. After this battle no one will need you ever again,” Voldemort sneered._

_And then he directed Nagini to attack, without a second thought. Snape had always feared the snake; probably more than he feared the Dark Lord. **So this is it. This is the end.** _

_He felt his body slam against the window pane as the impact of the snake’s bite terrorized him._ _The pain from just one bite was excruciating. The snake wasn’t done and he braced for another attack._

_And then he saw **her**. _

_She stepped out of her hiding space, her eyes huge and angry. His vision blurred, but he tried to pay attention to what she was doing._ _He assumed she was upset with him; she had just witnessed him let the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters onto the Hogwarts grounds. He expected her to attack him as well; in her eyes, he was a traitor. **But why is she here in the boathouse? Why isn’t she with her friends?**_

_She lifted her wand, hexing the snake and diverting its attention away from him. **She’s trying to help me!** The thought perplexed him. Why should she, someone he had insulted and ridiculed for years, want to help him? The thought tugged at his heart strings._

_He saw Hermione looking out the door, her eyes following Voldemort as he marched across the open field towards Hogwarts. She was distracted and the snake she had only merely stunned was coming after her now._ _He tried to warn her but his speech was slurred and incomprehensible. His ears rang. His body was growing paralyzed. He wanted to reach for his wand, but strength failed him._

 _Then he saw her stumbling towards him and he braced himself. Her body collapsed on top of him, Nagini eyeing both of them now. He felt the bitter taste of venom and bile rise in his throat._ _But Hermione still had her wand out. She was still trying to kill the snake._

 _“ **Brave** ,” he commended her silently._ _He had always admired her intelligence, but would never admit that to anyone. He hadn’t wanted to encourage the little know-it-all._

_He felt death approaching; a graveyard awaiting him._

_He closed his eyes and tried to think of Lily, the love of his life. Her green eyes. Damn those green eyes. Her pale, smooth skin. Her smile. Her voice. He felt something brushing against his cheek. He smiled wistfully, thinking of Lily’s long red hair. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Lily’s hair._

_But it was Hermione’s curly, unruly hair, fanned out across his face. He groaned. **No, don’t think about this girl, stupid man.** _

_He heard her cry out, something he couldn’t decipher. He could feel her body going limp. She was a small girl, naturally it would take its toll on her first. She was dying. She was dying because for some reason she had followed him here to this godforsaken boathouse._

_His vision deteriorated. His face was damp with sweat, his neck with blood. This was it. For both of them. He took a deep breath as the venom coursed through his body, binding itself with his blood. He was fading away. Would he be reunited with Lily again, in the afterlife? He encouraged death to take him now, anticipating the sight of Lily again. He had nothing left here on Earth for him. No hope. Voldemort was right, he didn’t wasn’t needed anymore, he didn’t matter anymore._

_The body sprawled out across him twitched, startling him. Then he felt a small and delicate hand grasp his. She pressed her palm into the top of his hand, wrapping her slender fingers around it. Their touch felt magnetic and electrifying; reassuring him that he was not alone, that he did, indeed, matter to someone._

**_Lily?_** _He wondered in his delusional state._

**_No, Hermione._ ** _Something in the back of his mind whispered._

_Then black._

Hermione felt herself spinning through space and time into another memory. Now she stood before the Mirror of Erised; except that she only saw Snape’s reflection in the mirror as he stared into it with a deep frown.

 _Relief coursed through him as Lily appeared in the mirror. He broke into a low sob._ _“Lily, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to.” Lily’s vision in the mirror reached up tenderly, as if stroking his hair._

_But the relief was quickly replaced with frantic anxiety as Lily began to back away. “Don’t leave me! Why are you always leaving me?!” Anguish surged through him._

_Then another figure, pale and luminescent at first, began approaching. **Death?**_

_Lily, just barely visible at this point, nodded at the other vision standing next to her. Then she became more discernible_.

Hermione saw herself in the mirror, staring back at Snape with a tranquil expression. Shock rolled through her as the scene changed rapidly once again, this time transferring her outdoors, to a dark and cold forest.

_Theodore held the stone out in his palm; the resurrection stone._

_“Lily will be all yours if you accept my proposal and join me. Would you like to see her again? Her green eyes and red hair? Hear her voice again?”_

_Lily formed in Snape’s mind. A young, healthy woman, smiling and laughing_. **_Lily, I would take you in a heartbeat_** _. The vision looked back at him quizzically. “Really Severus?” she seemed to ask. The memory of the Mirror of Erised flashed before his mind: Lily fading. Hermione approaching, but as he reviewed the memory he realized it felt natural to have Hermione appear before him, replacing Lily. And he finally let go of the past he had tried for so long to hold onto. Only one thing was clear now._

**_Hermione. I need my girl._ **

_“No,” Snape responded to Theodore darkly._

* * *

She found him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking beyond exhausted and ill. She stayed rooted where she was, by the table, feeling like her breath was caught in her throat.

“Say it.”

He tilted his head, his eyes questioning her, as he stared back.

“I want to hear you say it. Out loud.” Her jaw was set with determination. Her heart skipped a beat when he opened his mouth and inhaled, his shoulders rising.

“I love you.”

A cry escaped her lips as she rushed to him, kneeling at his feet. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her mouth, her tears falling onto them.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Severus. I’m so sorry.”

“Hermione,” his rich voice deeply reverberated in her ears. She looked up at him through the tears. “Do you love me?”

“I do, I do, I love you,” she buried her face in his hands, holding them tightly against her.

“Come.” He pulled her up to the bed with him and she nestled against his side as he wrapped an arm between her shoulders and the bed, holding her closely.

She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing, a small tear running down the side of her face and into her hair. She realized only then that she was still in her wet clothes, so preoccupied with getting him warm and watching his memories she had failed to notice until now.

“I’m going to change into something warm, I’ll be back,” she whispered. He hummed in response.

She flooed to her room and quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a jumper, drying her hair with magic. She slipped back into his bed, realizing he had fallen asleep. Careful not to wake him she slowly inched closer to him on the bed and sat beside him for awhile, just watching him sleep; the rise and fall of his chest, his dark lashes brushing against his pale cheeks, the deep indentation above his upper lip, the curve of his lips, his hooked nose he thought was entirely too large that she loved dearly.

The rain continued to patter against the window and soon it lulled her to sleep. She curled up against him, his body now warm and inviting. They slept for hours, for when they both began to stir it was dark out and the rain had long since subsided. She stretched, yawning languidly as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

Hermione called for the House Elves to bring a full spread of supper. She levitated the table to the bedside, arranging the food so Snape didn’t have to get up.

“I want you to relax. Your body needs to recover.”

“I need to go to London,” he winced as he sat up against the pillows. She made him a plate with roast beef, potatoes, steamed carrots, strawberry slices, and rye bread.

“I want to keep you here, with me, for a little while longer.”

“Hermione-“

“Please. We need to work out a plan. You’re innocent and you only just got back and I need you here and-“

“Hermione, it will only make things worse if I don’t turn myself in.”

“Let’s just talk through it first, please? With the Order of the Thunderbird, _please_?” she pleaded.

He surrendered, nodding as he looked down at his plate of food.

They discussed what the last few days had been like for each of them. He told her more about his encounter with Nott, about Barty Crouch Jr. being locked up in a cage, and seeing the older Carrow siblings. He tried to explain what it had felt like being drugged by whatever potion Nott had used on him.

She rolled her eyes. “I knew Draco was innocent,” she muttered.

She told him about the school, the parents, the community’s reactions, the Order’s meetings. She didn’t eat much, her stomach churned from all the emotions she currently felt, making the food look less tantalizing. Finally he set his plate to the side and turned his penetrating stare on her once more. Her chest swelled with nervous anticipation, her breaths short and quick.

A sound at the window nearly made her jump out of her skin. She looked back at him with wide eyes. “What was that?” she said as she scooted off the bed and to the window.

“I don’t see anything,” she swallowed, moving her neck and head from side to side as she peered out the window. “It’s raining again, though.” She turned back towards the bed, only to find herself standing face to face with him. He had left the bed noiselessly and now stood, looking down at her, his eyes drifting from her eyes to her lips and then back up to her eyes again.

Suddenly he grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her to his lips. She let out a small startled gasp and then sighed into his embrace, her body relaxing and seemingly melting into the warmth of his chest.

He pulled her close, keeping one of his hands on her jaw, the other encircling her waist while his lips desperately sought the solace of hers. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hermione,” he murmured, pulling his lips away just enough to say her name, but they still brushed against hers as the syllables left his mouth.

Somehow they managed to make it back to the bed, their lips locked, their eyes closed. Pulling away for only a mere matter of seconds to adjust on the bed, he leaned over her, laying on his side, as he resumed his position holding her jaw, his touch both strong and gentle.

They took their time, their lips gently caressing the other’s, their breathing syncing and slowing, growing deeper as their tongues began to dance playfully, touching lightly as if this were the first time they had ever kissed like this. He moved his hand to the back of her head, his fingers massaging her scalp as he pushed his tongue in deeper and began to nip at her lower lip.

She arched towards him. “Severus…” she whispered. Her body’s reaction between her legs intensified, pulsating as her legs began to tremble with anticipation. He dragged his lips down her chin, her throat, pausing to give her soft kisses along her neck and down to her clavicle. Bringing his hand away from her head, he inched it up underneath her jumper, feeling the soft flesh of her stomach and then moving his fingers lightly over one of her breasts.

“No bra?” he mused, smirking.

She smiled, but arched quickly again as he rolled her hardened nipple gently between his forefinger and thumb. He watched her reactions with intense fascination, his eyes dark and curious as she clutched at the coverlet on the bed, her hips bucking. He moved his hand over to her other breast, showing it equal attention.

“Please…” she gasped out, licking her lips. He bent down and began kissing her again, this time pulling her tongue into his mouth and sucking on it, while the tip of his own caressed the underside of hers. She moaned into his mouth. He let go of her tongue, letting her catch her breath and repeated the move again.

He inched his hand to the waistline of her sweatpants, his fingers lightly moving across her body from hip to hip. He dragged his middle finger downwards, feeling the soft curls between her legs. His middle finger began to make slow circles as he increased the pressure and dipped the tip in between the folds, pushing on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex, his mouth continuing to suck on her tongue as if his life depended on it.

“Yeeeessssss” she cried out hoarsely when he finally broke away. She began to frantically pull down her pants, her eyes pleading with him to help. He chuckled quietly. Discarding her pants he threw them on the floor, much like that first night in her bedroom, months ago. She grabbed his hand, pulling it back towards her.

“Please don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he brushed some hair away from her face as his middle finger began to resume the circling motion. This time he placed kisses along her jaw, her ear, her forehead, and down her neck. He breathed into her ear, pushing his hot breath within her as she shuddered. She grabbed his hand and began to guide him, forcing him quicken his motions. He allowed this for a minute and then pulled away.   
“Not so fast, my beautiful Gryffindor.”

Rising up on his knees he tugged on her jumper and she sat up helping him remove it as well. She laid before him, completely naked, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating erratically, her eyes searching his for approval…for forgiveness…for love. He gave it fully.

“I love you, Hermione.”

She pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her bare legs around his clothed body and kissing him deeply. His hair curtained them both, as their fingers intertwined and he pushed her arms up above their heads, holding her hands in place. He could feel her heat as she grinded against him, deriving some sensation from his clothed erection. Finally he pushed back up, sweat glistening across his forehead. His clothes felt suffocating now.

She helped him undress and then gently pushed him down on his back. Starting with his neck, she began trailing kisses along every scar on his body; his arms, his chest, his torso, his legs. She took her time, pressing her lips lovingly to all of the physical wounds he had endured.

Crawling up his body, her legs straddling him now, she ran her hands up and down his chest, staring at him with heavy lidded eyes. “I love you, too.”

He sat up, holding her in his lap, and took one of her breasts into his mouth. He curled his tongue around her nipple and stroked it. In. Out. In. Out. She threw her head back her legs tightening around his, his erection pushed up between their torsos. He let go and moved to the other breast.

“Oh god, Severus.” Panting she looked back at him. “I need you in me. I need to feel you.”

He laid back down and she positioned herself, slowly inching herself down onto his erection, causing him to groan, his eyes rolling back into his head. He held her hips as she moved back up again so that just the tip was in, before sliding back down, pushing him in as deep as her body would allow. She repeated this for a couple of minutes, moving agonizingly slow. She stared at the ceiling, seeing white flashes of light, her legs tightening on either side of him.

Looking back down at him she began to move her hips in circular motions and she smiled at him as he struggled to breathe. He slid his hands up to her breasts, gripping them as she rode him. She started moving faster, but he stopped her.

“Hermione, please. I want to make this last.”

She moved off of him and he flipped her onto her back, his body covering hers now. She giggled as their mouths met again. Long, languid kisses helped calm their pounding heartbeats. His hand crept between her legs again, this time insistently pushing two, then three, fingers inside of her.

“Mmmmmm,” he hummed into her ear as he felt how hot and wet she was. He pushed in and out a few times before pulling out quickly. She made a startled gasp as she opened her eyes to find his dark hair laying across her pelvic bone. His tongue quickly found its destination, the apex of her sex.

She groaned, bucking against him. He held her hips in place as he buried his head in between her legs. He groaned and hummed against her, which only added to the sensation she felt. She grabbed his hair, tugging on it, staring at the ceiling once again. His tongue danced around her apex, the bundle of nerves, every movement he did made her throb all the more. He drove her into a frenzy.

Just when she thought she was going to release and he pulled away, settling back on his knees, and looked up at her, causing her to let out a frustrated groan. He wiped her juices off his mouth with the palm of his hand, staring at her with dark lust.

Taking his erection he slid the tip of it up and down her wetness. Over and over. Her toes curled and her fingers dug into the bedsheets. He closed his eyes and let the tingling sensation overwhelm him. He was throbbing to the point it hurt, but it wanted to let the tension build as much as possible.

Finally deciding to take the plunge, he grabbed her thighs and pushed into her. The bed creaked with every thrust, he grunted, his face paling.

“Come here,” she beckoned and he moved down to her, kissing her as his wet forehead brushed against hers. Their lips frantically sought each other out as their bodies rubbed against each other, their pleasure intensifying at the same rate. He grunted into her ear as she moaned in response. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, before pulling away to groan from the pleasure building within his core.

They peaked at the same time, she just a few seconds before him, her muscles clenching around him as she arched up towards him. He rode out the waves of his orgasm, their lips just mere centimeters apart from each other, their noses brushing against each other as they gasped. She wrapped her legs around his body, trying to pull him in as tight and close as possible, seeing stars from the sheer exhilaration of their climax. This had been the first time they had climaxed simultaneously.

Finally he collapsed on top of her, shaking, his body damp. She welcomed him with open arms, burying her nose into his hair and running her hands up and down his back in a soothing motion. They stayed in this position for a long time; she didn’t mind the weight of him, in fact she preferred it. She felt safe and secure underneath him.

Just when she thought he was asleep he popped his head up to glance at her.

“Hermione, my Hermione,” he buried his face into her neck, nuzzling her affectionately. She ran her finger nails through his scalp. The bed was amess. The coverlet was now hanging off the side of the bed and the sheets were twisted and damp. She could still hear the rain pattering lightly against the window.

She sighed blissfully. “It rained the first time we had sex too.”

“Really?”

“Mmmmhmmm. The first time we fully had sex that is.”

“Fully?”

“I seem to remember a period of about a week where we did… _other_ activities first.” She giggled, remembering the way he sauntered into her room that first night, while she had been so very unromantically brushing her teeth, and within minutes she found herself completely naked on her bed, writhing in ecstasy as he went down on her.

He chuckled too, remembering that first night as well. He pushed himself up, looking at her intensely. “You’re more beautiful than ever.”

She flushed, finding that the way he looked at her was already making her feel somewhat aroused again. He rolled to his side and put his hand on her stomach.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she conceded, understanding what he was referring to.

“Do you have more contraception?” He stared at her belly button.

“Yes. I’ll go take it,” she slid out of bed, grabbing her jumper and sweatpants. “It’s in my room.”

“You’ll come back?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, his eyes were large and longing. She smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I’ll be right back.”

* * *

She made them tea when she came back and they fixed the bed sheets and climbed back in. It was now the middle of the night, but she didn’t care, as long as she was in his arms. When he told her she should rest she reminded him that it was Easter break and she could sleep in, to which he gave her a small close lipped smile and kissed the side of her head.

They sipped their tea for awhile before her face grew solemn. “Severus,” she turned towards him, “I promise not to make any major life decisions that affect the both of us without talking to you about it next time. I just want you to know that.”

He bowed his head, evidently very touched by her promise. “Thank you,” he responded quietly. After a brief pause he looked at her cautiously. “Hermione?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want kids someday?”

She looked down into her cup of tea, pondering her answer. “I…I think I might like one. I know it probably does seem like I would after what happened, but I did feel sad when the miscarriage happened. I did feel the loss. And before that…part of the reason I kept waiting so long to make a decision is that I…I felt so conflicted. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. I still don’t think the timing was perfect, but maybe the timing isn’t ever perfect for most people.” She shrugged. “I keep trying to achieve this perfection…and…and…I have to let go of those expectations of how I think my life is going to, because the reality is, life is a whirlwind and I’m just trying to stay on my feet.”

She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.

“Profound, Granger.”

She laughed, which made him smile in return. “But you know what I mean.”

He set his teacup aside and held out his hand for hers to do the same. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her back against the pillows.

“Do you want children?” she inquired, her interest piqued.

“Not particularly.”

“Oh.”

“But with you, I would consider it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She blinked a few times, storing his words in her memory. They both began to doze off, feeling content and warm as the post-coitus drowsiness set in. They slept the rest of the night holding each other, blessed with a deep and satisfying slumber.

* * *

 

 **A/N #2-** It’s going to be a bit before I can update again. This next month is just really insanely busy for me and I want to make sure I have proper time to write & edit without being rushed since we’re nearing the end. My process is to write and then let it sit for awhile before I go back and edit because then my mind is much more clear.  
But at least I’m leaving you with this chapter! But I probably won’t be able to update again until mid-March. I’ll see you all then! And once again, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-I know it’s been a while since the last chapter. Sorry, work has been crazy hectic the last few months. Happy 1 year anniversary to this story! This full document is 362 pages single spaced (like wow) and 20 of those pages are stuff I had decided to edit out of the story because they didn’t fit the plot as well, but I kept them for posterity’s sake.  
> I’ve included some choice reminders of things in previous chapters that hopefully serve the story well. And there’s definitely a couple of hints/foreshadowing on what’s to come in this story.

Pansy powdered her cheek bones with Glamchop’s new shimmering skin highlighter, the heel of one of her stilettos tapping against the stone floor repeatedly. She was perfectly bored. Rita was late to work and Pansy didn’t bother with finding something productive to do around the office while she waited. So she filed and buffed her nails, reapplied her lipstick and mascara, admired her reflection in the mirror, and sipped her ice coffee huffing that she could have (and should have) slept in if Rita was going to be this late.

Pansy was still waiting to actually have an official assignment. Rita had hinted or outright suggested several times that “this would be a good piece for you to cover, dear,” but had never officially signed away any such story to Pansy. _She just likes to hog all the stories and get all the credit,_ Pansy thought bitterly, rolling her eyes. _A complete control freak._

Said control freak burst into the office right at that moment, her springy curls bouncing, her cheeks flushed.

“Well! I just saw your husband giving quite the speech.”

Pansy nearly bit her tongue in surprise. “Theo?”

Rita gave Pansy a side glance like the younger woman was crazy as she leaned over her desk to look at her messages. “Of course dear, do you have more than one husband?” she laughed.

 _That bastard hasn’t been home in more than two days, so this is what he’s been up to,_ Pansy’s irritation spiked.

She had a sickly feeling building up in her stomach. He hadn’t told her where he was going and she could only assume it had to do with the disappearance of Snape. Barty Crouch Jr. and his cage were also gone, which _did_ help matters when the Aurors showed up at their home to investigate the disappearance of Snape.

Rita started pacing the office, her Quick-Quotes Quill frantically moving across the little notepad suspended in the air as Pansy listened to Rita recount the scene her husband caused.

Rita paused and sighed with a dreamy expression on her face. “Your husband would actually make a great minister with oration skills like that.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “He was the quietest and most aloof boy in Slytherin House; didn’t know he had it in him,” she answered spitefully. Theodore, her husband, was definitely a different man than Theodore, the student.

“Well he roused a lot of support. It seems that Wizardkind is waking up to the shortcomings of our government. We _do_ need a stronger leader who can protect us.”

 _Yes, you better choose him,_ Pansy thought, _or else he’ll set Barty Crouch Jr. loose to terrorize everyone._

“Well,” Rita said decidedly. “We must get this printed as soon as possible and help the cause.”

* * *

“Am I hurting you?” Harry shifted, pushing himself up from his wife’s bare torso. He searched her face, trying to deduce if she was hiding the fact that she was in pain or uncomfortable. He suspected she put up a façade during sex, similar to the way she did it outside the bedroom too, always hiding away her true feelings in order to be strong for others.

“I’m fine.” She kept her eyes closed and moved her hips against him, pushing him further into her.

They had only had sex a handful of times since the miscarriage. Harry had been hesitant, even when she had initiated, worried he’d cause her pain-physical or psychological. But Ginny had insisted that she was ready to start trying again. Still, Harry felt nervous, even at Ginny’s behest.

“Gin, don’t lie to me. I want to know if you’re uncomfortable. It isn’t pleasant for me to know I’m hurting my wife. I’d rather just not do it if it is.”

“It’s not…” she grimaced. “It’s not hurting me down there. I just feel…nervous. It’s hard to turn off my mind.”

Harry stared at her silently for a few seconds. She refused to open her eyes. He set his jaw and rolled off her gently.

“Nooo,” she moaned.

“We’ll try again. Tomorrow, ok? But…tonight…right now, it’s just…neither one of us are into it. And that’s not a bad thing,” he rushed to say when he saw her eyes fly open with what he assumed was a mixture of anger and guilt. “You know there have been…other times when we just haven’t felt up to it. We’re both tired and stressed and anxious.” He frowned as she began to pick at her nails, still unreadable.

“I didn’t do much to help your mind get into it either,” he smiled apologetically as she finally glanced at him. “That’s my fault.”

“I just…want…” she struggled through the words, gritting her teeth, “everything to be normal again,” the last part of her sentence rushed. “With us…with everything. The whole freakin world.” She sighed, pushing herself up and grabbing her nightgown to pull it down over her head. “And,” she turned to give Harry an admonishing look. “You were a real arse to Hermione the other day too.”

“What?” Harry sat up, slipping on his glasses and giving his wife an incredulous look. “What’d I do?” His hair stuck out on the side, the same way it did during his teenage years.

“Are you serious?” Ginny gaped at him. “You harassed her about Snape; blaming him and tearing apart his reputation. You made her feel really horrid on top of her losing him without any idea where he went.”

Harry blinked, his mouth hanging open.

“He _loves_ her, Harry. Like really, truly. I know for a fact. He wouldn’t just up and leave her. And you were cruel about it and disparaged his memory, in front of the rest of the Order! And I’m pretty sure she loves him too.”

Harry’s mouth slackened, his cheeks reddening. “I…”

“You owe her an apology. You’re wrong about him.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious-“

“Harry,” Ginny said firmly. “You work with him. You work _for_ him. He leads the Order with you. He’s in love with one of your best friends. Are you really telling me you don’t trust him?”

Harry blinked in confusion. “Old habits die hard I guess.”

“Apparently,” Ginny folded her arms across her chest, giving him a look she used to give her older brothers when she was irritated with them. “You testified on his behalf after the war, though,” she pointed out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. “Ok, I get it, I’m a complete git.”

Ginny sighed. “No, you’re not a _complete_ git,” she smiled at her husband, “but you get so wound up and tense when you’re anxious and it’s really not helpful. The same thing happened when you were obsessed with Draco and they questioned your ability to continue being an Auror. _And_ when you were in school.”

“I just want to figure everything out. I hate not knowing what’s going on.”

Ginny leaned over, wrapping her arm around Harry’s shoulders protectively and kissing the temple of his forehead. “I know.” She nestled her nose next to his ear and closed her eyes, desperate for a moment of tranquility.

* * *

Hestia couldn’t pry her green eyes away from Theodore’s face. Something about the wild look in his eyes fueled her devotion to him. Obsession with him, one could say. She realized she was holding her breath and slowly exhaled, her eyes never leaving his face.

Meanwhile, Pansy was staring at Hestia with a look of disgust. “What are you staring at?” she sounded just like her teenage self; they might as well be sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

Hestia swallowed and dragged her eyes away from Pansy’s husband. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “Just waiting for this meeting to get started, that’s all.” Hestia shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance.

Pansy rolled her eyes and flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. She knew well enough that Hestia had a crush on her husband. And she knew that Theodore couldn’t care less about Hestia. She, like everyone else, was a pawn in her husband’s game. Pansy was even beginning to realize that she, herself, was just a pawn as well. Their marriage had always seemed more about appearances and less about love. But Pansy hadn’t married him for love either so she supposed she couldn’t whine about her situation.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Theodore rapped his knuckles against the wooden table twice to get everyone’s attention.

Amycus snickered something in Flora’s ear, earning him a kick underneath the table from Alecto, accompanied by a warning look. 

“I think we’re ready to proceed with our plans. The tide seems to be turning against Shacklebolt well enough. It wasn’t very hard to rouse everyone’s ire. The ministry seemed well on its way to losing the populace’s favor.”

“Surely Shacklebolt has heard about the protests in Diagon Alley by now? Do you think he has a plan to respond and calm everyone down?” Flora asked.

“I think that’s precisely why we need to be speedy with our next moves. My plan to persuade Snape to our side has failed. And despite my best attempts to weaken his magic, he got away,” Theodore shot a deadly look down the table, staring daggers at Amycus and then Alecto for a few seconds each as he paused dramatically, “and Draco’s currently drugged and in the basement of my house-“

“Draco?” Pansy glanced at her husband; she straightened with a jolt as if someone had poked her spine with a needle. “You said you were going to leave him out of this.”

“Yes, Pansy,” Theodore sounded irritated. “But I had very little choice. I needed him. He knew what the stakes were when he rejected my invitation to voluntarily join us.”

Pansy’s stomach knotted. “Did you hurt him?”

“Of course not.”

Amycus tittered, watching Pansy with a bemused expression. “What, doll face, feeling overly protective of yer ol’ boyfriend?”

Pansy paled, ignoring Amycus. She felt unnerved and queasy. “Have you permanently ruined his magic?”

“Probably not since Snape was able to get away,” the irritation was now ripe in her husband’s voice. “Moving along to other matters, I think we shall be ready to act within a day or two. I’d like to get more crowd support and then have them demand the removal of the minister, make them think like it was their idea all along.”

“But ultimately you want leadership, right?” Flora gestured to him with an open palm.

“Yes, I can emerge as one of them from the masses once they are desperate enough, and be the voice of reason.”

“But what if they reject you?”

Hestia wanted to strangle her twin for pressing Theodore like that. Did Flora want to end up on the receiving end of Theodore’s anger?

“Well then I’ll just have to use methods to persuade them.” Theodore had an evil glint in his eye.

“And what about Potter’s crew,” Alecto asked.

“We’ll take them on. And I’ll let Barty Jr. off his lease. There’s a reason for keeping a rabid cur around for times like these.”

Alecto gave him a mischievous, nearly toothless smile.

* * *

“Stay with me. For another day, please?” Hermione whispered to Snape as he slowly opened eyes to find her staring at him. “We’ll tell the Order you’re back first thing tomorrow and make a plan, but I just need you here with me for another day. Let’s just pretend everything is normal.”

Snape hummed, burying his face in his pillow.

Hermione smiled at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She kissed his forehead. “I’ll let you sleep for a bit, I’m going to go get some work done.”

She slipped out of the bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and jumper and pocketing her wand. Looking back over at the bed, she watched Snape sleep for a moment, his dark hair fanned out across the pillow, his breathing slow and steady.

He had escaped and he loved her. Hermione tugged on the ends of her sleeves, her typical habit when either nervous or deep in thought.

_We seem destined to be together._

Hermione knew that was a ridiculous thought. She felt the same twinge of annoyance at the idea of destined soul mates that she did with Trelawney’s teacup readings. But something within her pulled at her chest, like a rope tied around her ribcage tugging at her ever so lightly to believe that _something_ , bigger than the two of them, was bringing them together; _had been_ bringing them together since she was a school girl.

She shrugged off the feeling, or tried to at least.

But sitting in her office, or rather, Snape’s office, with a stack of papers in front of her hoping to distract herself didn’t remedy the restless anxiety that she felt. She dropped her quill, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

_How were we going to get out of this mess?_

Snape was still insisting on turning himself into the Muggle authorities, he had mentioned it late last night before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

And what was Theodore Nott even planning? He had been insistent, frantic even, as she watched Snape’s memories, wanting to dismantle the Ministry. She knew the Ministry wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was sure of a lot better with Kingsley Shacklebolt in charge of it than she had ever before experienced.

And why couldn’t she get over this nagging feeling that Dumbledore had been working behind the scenes when it came to her and Severus?

She swiveled in her chair to stare up at him, but his eyes were closed, his lips making a soft puffing sound with each breath.

“I know you’re not asleep,” she said flatly, staring at him with the same stern look she gave rowdy students. 

A few quiet seconds passed.

“Sir,” she spoke again, her jaw tense and determination in her eyes flaring. It wasn’t a question, it was a command for him to pay attention to her.

He opened his eyes and stared back at her with a calm expression. “Yes, Ms. Granger?”

“Why have you been interfering in mine and Severus’ lives?”

“Pardon?”

“Since I was a school girl. At least since 7th year, maybe even longer,” Hermione was talking to herself more than she was talking to Dumbledore at this point, having dropped her eyes and glancing around at nothing in particular as she mulled over the past.

“How did you know I was going to go to the boathouse that day? You _knew_ I was going to find Snape there. You _knew_ what was going to happen to us.” She blinked rapidly, her mind still reeling. “ _How? Why?_ ” she looked back up at him again, imploringly.

“Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore’s calm voice irritated Hermione.

“ _You_ told me Phoenix tears counteract snake venom. Fawkes alerted Hagrid. You _knew_!” Tears rushed to her eyes, her emotions swelling and ready to break through her mental floodgates.

“I had some insight into the coming situation-“

“Then why didn’t you do anything else to stop it? If you knew he was going to the boathouse, that he was going to let Voldemort in, why’d you let any of that happen in the first place?”

“Ms. Granger, it is extremely dangerous to alter the course of events. It can set off a chain reaction that could result in many other miseries.”

“You let me use the Time Turner my third year and then encouraged me to ‘alter the course of events’ then.”

“That was because the events you were altering had already taken place.”

“You seem keen on playing God.”

Another portrait gasped at her audacity, but she held Dumbledore’s eyes fervently.

“The prophecy-“ Dumbledore started after a beat.

“Oh great, yes! The prophecy I seem to be included in,” she threw her hands up in the air and rose from the desk. She pointed her wand at the door leading to the private rooms and cast a Muffliato. This was the last thing Snape needed to hear right now. “The prophecy about Snape and me, how could I forget!” she cried.

“Ms. Granger-“

“No! I have a right to be upset about this! You’re not going to tell me the prophecy, are you? It would jeopardize too much, you’ll probably say. But you set us up. You wanted us to fall in love, didn’t you? You told me that night before the battle that I _impressed_ him. That he had _affection_ for me. ‘What would I say to him when he returns?’ ‘Do I love him?’” she mocked, pacing back and forth on the other side of the desk now.

“The prophecy depends on the two of you being in love.”

“But it had to be engineered, didn’t it! It would never happen organically, would it?”

“You two are suited for one another, you simply needed a push in the right direction.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Your manipulations should be a crime against civil rights.”

“I believe they’re always for the greater good.”

She scoffed, continuing to pace.

“Ms. Granger, he does love you and it is very much real and genuine. I believe you know that. But he is a stubborn man, which you also know to be true. He would have preferred to die that day. But he deserves love and redemption. And you are his greatest chance at that.”

She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “It’s still manipulation.”

“Did you know your astrological signs align?”

She rolled her eyes. “Astrology is on par with Trelawney’s teacup and palm readings, ridiculous and nothing more.”

“The Ancient Runes text confirmed it,” Dumbledore said evenly, knowing that would catch her off guard.

It worked.

She revered the Ancient Runes texts.

She froze, her eyes astonished.

“There’s a brown and gold book on that shelf over there. Third from the right on the top shelf. Capricorn and Virgo. Sage and Healer. Go on, look it up.”

She did. Her mind worked through the symbols slowly, flipping through several pages. It had been years since she had practiced her runes translation skills. But Dumbledore patiently waited inside his portrait, standing, his hands clasped together in front of him. Finally she looked back up at him, at a loss for words.

“I confirmed it with Firenze before I died, as well. Ms. Granger,” he said gently. “Severus has only ever wanted to be loved and accepted for who he was, who he is. He is a product of a broken relationship between his parents, a complicated relationship with Lily, bullying at the hands of the Marauders that I did little to nothing to stop, and enough regret to drive him to the point of intense self-loathing, desiring death more than anything. But your love has given him something to live for, something to hold onto and cherish. You are the family he’s never had. I know you know this, but I just wanted to reaffirm all of it.”

Hermione found herself having to sit down. She lowered herself into a cushioned chair next to the bookcase, feeling faint, exhaustion from her emotional outburst overwhelming her.

“The love the two of you have for each other is softening both of you,” Dumbledore continued. “It’s a beautiful thing. I only wish I could be there to experience it more.”

She swallowed, her heart beating wildly. The room suddenly felt stifling, closing in on her and suffocating.

She had to get out of there.

She walked the hallways aimlessly, lost in her own thoughts. The castle was quiet. Students wouldn’t return until tomorrow.

 _Family. Love. Redemption._ Snape saw her in the Mirror of Erised. She wondered what she’d see now. Would it be different than when she was a school girl?

She took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.

Turning, she headed for the Room of Requirement, knowing that it would present her with the Mirror if that’s what she desired.

“Hi Professor Granger.”

Hermione started, she had been completely oblivious to the girl sitting in the window seat as she passed her.

“Elizabeth,” she smiled warmly. “I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly. “My dad sent me back last night. He got permission, I assumed it had been from you.”

“It must have been Professor Vector. Is everything ok?”

Elizabeth shrugged, glancing back out the window. “I don’t know. My dad’s nervous. The protesters have been gathering outside the Ministry building since yesterday. He’s worried they’re going to get violent.”

Hermione sat on the edge of the window seat, grabbing Elizabeth’s hand. She felt guilty that she was selfishly sequestering herself and Snape from the other Order members. “I forgot your dad works for the Ministry.”

“Are you worried?” Elizabeth looked back at her desperate for some comfort.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Elizabeth. There are some things going on that seem worrisome, but there are a lot of good witches and wizards who are working behind the scenes to keep us safe.” Hermione pulled Elizabeth into a hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

“You always make me feel better, Professor Granger,” Elizabeth said shyly. “You’re going to make a great mum someday.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat as she pulled back from the hug. _No one had ever told her that._ She’d been naturally very good or worked hard at accomplishing many things, but never once had someone, other than Elizabeth, stated so bluntly that Hermione would make a great mother. Her insecurities about motherhood seemed to thaw at Elizabeth’s assertion.

So touched, Hermione found herself at a loss for words. “Thank you,” was all she could say.

Elizabeth gave her a sweet smile. Having forgotten her original intent on visiting the Mirror of Erised, Hermione suggested to Elizabeth that they’d find something to eat in the kitchens, to which the teenage girl heartily agreed.

* * *

Pansy crept down the stairs, only her wand lit as she moved across the shadowed basement, to a black lump on the floor. A shock of platinum blonde hair stuck out from beneath the black bundle, the lump rising and falling to indicate deep breathing.

Pansy folding some of the cloak back, getting a glimpse of Draco’s drugged face. He wore a pained look, even in his sleep; his lips dry and chapped, dark circles around his eyes. Pansy’s heart clenched at the sight of her former beau looking so ragged and pitiful.

“Draco,” she whispered. He didn’t stir. “Draco, I brought you some water and a banana. Draco?”

Still, he didn’t stir. She shook his shoulder lightly, biting her lip and hoping he wouldn’t wake up startled and make too much noise.

She heard him moan softly, but his eyes remained shut, his lips curled down into the frown she knew so well. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry, a lump forming in her throat. It felt like a large rock had been shoved down her esophagus.

She brushed some of his blonde hair away from his face and took a shaky breath. “You need to get strong again, so you can get out of here,” she whispered, bending close to his face, her lips almost brushing his ear. He had a strong musky scent, like he had been lying in water for days. If his teenage self could have seen him at this moment, he’d be appalled.

“I’ll check on you again next time Theo’s out. He has your wand, he put it somewhere. I’ll look for it.” She sat upright again, knowing full well that if she were to help Draco escape, her husband would be furious with her. Could she find a tricky way to get the wand to Draco? She doubted it; she didn’t see many options that couldn’t be traced back to her.

But she had to do _something_. She shuddered to think that Theodore would resort to keeping Draco chained up in a cage like he was doing with Barty Crouch Jr. Like an animal. A man with only half his soul in tact was one thing, but she couldn’t let that happen to Draco; no matter her past with him.

She gave Draco one last wistful look before standing up, her knees cracking and her joints aching. She made her way up the stairs, just as quietly as she had come down.

* * *

“What’s this?” Neville picked up a piece of parchment on the kitchen table, knitting his eyebrows together as he read over it.

Luna looked up from where she was nestled on the sofa with a book in her hands. “Oh, that’s just a job offer,” she said nonchalantly and went back to reading.

“Just a job offer…Luna, this is an _amazing_ job offer.” Neville’s eyes quickly scanned the document. “A year long fellowship in New Zealand to study Taniwhas with a stipend of 70 pounds for equipment alone? And the salary is unbelievable!”

Luna looked up at him and smiled, but remained quiet, her eyes dropping once again to the page in front of her.

“What’s a Taniwha?”

Luna’s eye lit up. “It’s like a Kelpie, but until recently it’s only been a Maori myth that they existed. It lives in the water and can shape shift.”

“Don’t Kelpies eat people?” Neville’s heart somersaulted.

“They can, unless you can charm them first. How else would you get their hair for wand cores? Newt Scamander rode one once.”

Neville gulped. “Lovely. So this is to get Taniwha hair?”

“It’s to study them and see what their magical principles are.” She responded to all of his questions in her usual sing-songy way.

“Did you apply for this job?”

“No. I was peer selected.”

“Luna,” Neville stared at his wife like she had grown two heads. “How can you be so calm about this? This is a fantastic job offer!”

“It really is a lovely offer, isn’t it?” Luna said in her dreamy way.

“You’re going to take it, right?”

Luna turned the page. “No, I don’t believe so.”

Neville gaped at his wife. “Luna.”

She finally met his eyes and he tried to get a good read on her emotions. But everything about her countenance seemed genuinely serene.

“I want to stay with you,” she said.

“But this is practically your dream job.”

“I know. But right now I want to be here with you.”

“That’s really sweet and all but I made it clear when we got married that I didn’t want to hold you back from your goals.” Neville was starting to feel frantic.

“I’ve made up my mind already, Neville. I’m not sad about letting this job go. There will be other opportunities.”

“No, Luna, you have to go, I won’t let you turn this down,” Neville felt on the verge of tears and he began pacing the room with a wild expression. Luna closed her book and watched her husband with concern.

“What is wrong, Neville?”

“I’m not going to be a burden to you.” He ran his hand through his hair, his voice rising with emotion.

“You’re not-“

“Yes, yes I am. I was a constant reminder of that to my gran. She gave up all her plans to travel just to raise me and I was a disappointment to her most of my life. I can’t hold you back like that. I’ll never forgive myself.”

He began to repeat and babble nervously for another minute while Luna let him vent. Finally she had had enough. Rising from the couch she threw her arms around him, holding him still.

“Look at me,” she said in possibly the most forceful voice she had ever used in her life (which wasn’t very forceful at all compared to anyone else). “I _want_ to stay. Not out of obligation. Not out of fear or worry. Not out of pity for you. I just want to be here with you.”

He searched her eyes, holding his breath.

“I’m _choosing_ you right now. I’m choosing home. I’m choosing our friends and family.”

He gulped. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be.” She rose to her tiptoes to kiss him tenderly.

* * *

Ginny sat on her bench, the one she used to share with Snape. Her heart was heavy with loneliness and the agony of knowing the prophecy about Hermione and Snape. She wished more than anything that she had bolted out of McGonagall’s house that day, instead of being subjected to the sight of Trelawney foaming at the mouth, her voice lowly trembling as she spoke of Hermione saving Snape’s life, not once, but twice.

Ginny oscillated between feeling numb and alarmed.

Snape was still alive.

He loves Hermione.

And Hermione was going to die.

Ginny was supposed to keep all of this to herself. Impossible. McGonagall said the prophecy could be altered if Ginny told either of them about it before it was fulfilled. Didn’t that mean that it could have a better outcome? That Hermione could be saved?

But would that change everything too much? Would Snape die, then? Or someone else?

Ginny whimpered, burying in her face in her hands as she propped her elbows on her knees. Perhaps if she could be there at just the right moment she could help save Hermione. Again, impossible. She’d have to follow Hermione around incessantly, for who knows how long.

Her best friend, aside from Harry, was going to die. Isn’t that what the prophecy meant? How could she live with this knowledge and pretend everything was ok?

Ginny decided she hated divination and the Inner Eye. _The practice would be outlawed_ , she thought indignantly.

* * *

Hermione returned to find Snape sitting up in bed, bare-chested, with a cup of tea and the _Daily Prophet_ on his lap. She folded the newspaper, putting it on the bedside table and straddled his lap, running her hands up and down his chest. She needed him to touch her.

She leaned in kissing him deeply, her tongue caressing his and her hands knotted into his hair at the back of his head.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, pulling away slightly, her body aching for him.

“With pleasure,” his voice sent tingles down her core, making her throb between her legs.

* * *

Ron held his niece, now a squirmy 18 month old toddler, in his arms. The little blonde, Victorie, didn’t seem interested in her uncle at all as she struggled to be released, eyeing her toys scattered around the room.

“She’s going to be a tri-wizard champion, like her mother,” Bill said proudly, smiling at Fleur from across the room.

“I’ll say,” Ron watched Victorie wiggle out of his arms and run across the floor picking up a toy broom. “She’s strong.”

“All muscle,” Bill grinned.

“vroom vroom!” she circled the room running on her tiptoes, the soft wisps of her blonde hair shining in the sunlight. “Muuuuuuuuum!!!”

Bill laughed. “I think she wants you to pay attention to her, Fleur.”

Fleur looked up from where she had been magicing her baking utensils and smiled at her daughter. “Veeeeery good, Victorie,” she cheered. Fleur had promised Ron a full meal, including apple strudel for dessert.

“C’mon Ron, old chap. We need to get you married with a houseful of your own kids,” Bill slapped Ron’s back affectionately.

“George and Angelina should be next, why aren’t you pestering them instead?” Ron was reluctant to admit that he _really_ wanted to settle down and have a baby.

“Who says I’m not?” Bill winked and grinned as he raised Victorie up in his arms and threw her into the air. The fearless child giggled with delight at the rush of exhilaration.

“And ‘Arry and Je-nny are trying, I’ve heard,” Fleur added, pronouncing Ginny’s name with a soft French sounding J.

Ron pulled a face; he didn’t want to think about Harry and Ginny in the act.

“Don’t worry little brother, we’ll find you a nice gal.”

“Maybe you should pour all that energy into giving Victorie a sibling,” Ron mumbled.

“Who says we’re not?” Bill laughed as Ron pulled another face, something between a look of horror and disgust.

“Please, spare me the details,” he held his hands up and Victorie ran past him, this time wearing a traditional witch’s hat that McGonagall was known for wearing and only her nappy.

Only one face came to mind lately when he thought about settling down with a family and he was shocked by the revelation. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, tell anyone about it; he assumed everyone would think he was bonkers, she seemed way out of his league.

* * *

“I love uncle Ron,” Teddy announced one morning out of the blue, while Tonks was busy making pancakes for him and reviewing the most recent Auror reports Ron’s owl had delivered to her at home.

“Do you?” she smiled widely at her son over her shoulder. “He’s a pretty fine chap, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, maybe I can stay with him over night sometime,” Teddy said matter-of-factly.

“Oh really? And has he invited you over?”

“No, but he should. We’d have loads of fun.”

“Well you can’t unless he invites you over. And I don’t even think he has a bed for you.”

“That’s ok, I’ll sleep on the floor. I just want to see him more.” Teddy licked Nutella off his forefinger.

“Ron is very busy at work, hunny, but I know he wants to see you too,” she reassured him.

“I wish we all lived together in a big house,” Teddy said, dreamily.

Tonks giggled. “Really? And who would live with us?”

“Ron and uncle Harry and aunt Ginny. And granny.”

“But they have their own homes.”

“Yes but our home would be better and then we could all be together.”

“I suppose that would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Tonks hummed and turned back towards the stove, flipping the last pancake.

* * *

Pansy knelt beside Draco’s body, again, a few days after her first visit. He was still curled up in the fetal position, his mind sluggishly struggling to free itself from the drugging potions Theodore had used, not once, but thrice.

She watched Draco’s lips move inaudibly, his brow tense with concern.

“Draco,” she spoke quietly and cautiously. “It’s me again.” She took a shaky breath and decided to sit down beside him on the cold, hard floor. The risk of having her husband catch her down here was great, but at the moment the wariness of the whole situation overwhelmed her, and while she shouldn’t be down in the basement with Draco in the first place, gravity seemed to be pushing her to the floor with a heavy hand. She sank into a sitting position, folding her legs together in front of her, tucking her feet under her thighs for warmth. Another cold spell had hit Great Britain just days after Easter, but Pansy found the increasing chill inside her heart more encumbering (and alarming) than the external cold.

She sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. She’d never felt so alone in her life. She, the self-proclaimed queen of Slytherin House, who had cultivated an entourage that followed her around the school for seven years, hanging onto her every word-judgment, ridicule, condemnation of others-and juicy gossip. Within the first couple years of school she had become so full of herself that she had imagined that her followers worshipped her in utter devotion to her, a cult she presided over; and for some of the students that was true. If they could get into Pansy Parkinson’s good graces and stay there, their own popularity and acceptance would be secured. The teenage years were a precarious time, after all; so much depended on social perceptions and approval of their own peers, at the risk of losing one’s own personal identity and preferences.

Pansy had made sure that her voice was the loudest, that she crafted the illusion that her opinion was the only one that mattered. And it had worked, until they graduated and she found herself without her followers, and thrown into the adult world for which she had never really prepared. She assumed she would get married fairly quickly after leaving Hogwarts. She _had_ prepared for that, and really, only that. As a pure-blood female, that was all she really knew and expected. But within that first year, she found herself rejected, dazed, and lost. Life didn’t seem to be going the way she had imagined.

She looked down at the blonde man, who seemed more like a boy at the moment, curled up in a protective position.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” she whispered. She didn’t want to speak, she knew her voice would crack with emotion, but something within her compelled her to say _something_ at least.

“Muffliato,” she whispered, just in case anyone was lurking, even though the house was still and empty when she had descended the stairs. 

“I’m sorry he dragged you into all of this. It was clear you wanted to be left alone.” She looked down at her hands again, unsure of just how to express her feelings. She had so little practice being anything more than superficial.

“I shouldn’t have married him. I did it out of spite. I was mad you didn’t want me anymore.”

She swallowed, feeling very uncomfortable with her own emotions. She rarely chose to be introspective and honest with herself, much less verbalize any of the insight she had. She didn’t like the way it felt examine the root of her beliefs and behavior. It felt constricting and claustrophobic. She’d much rather think about the way she appeared to others. She needed to be put together, confident, and beautiful; that’s what her mother had taught her. Knowing she was admired, in control, and attached to power would make her happy. That’s what she had been taught to believe. 

But she didn’t feel happy, even with those things.

Theo had been growing increasingly more withdrawn from her, and not just because of his own machinations. He had expected her to have born children by now; they’d been married for several years after all. But, then again, that was all part of his plan too; they needed to repopulate Wizardkind, especially the remaining pureblood lines.

With every passing month Pansy felt more abandoned and ignored; her husband’s disappointment growing more and more apparent each time she shook her head at his questioning look. Her purpose in all of this was to serve as a vessel for the future generation and not much else. But she shouldn’t be surprised by Theodore’s reaction, should she? That was the point of marriage, after all; to procreate, especially for the pureblood families. This was yet another lesson her mother had taught her growing up.

But Pansy couldn’t help feeling used. Wasn’t there anything else that she had to offer?

She had transitioned from feeling hurt every time she saw the look of disappointment in her husband’s eyes when she failed to get pregnant the first couple of years to fear that something was wrong with her. But trips to the Mediwitches had only left her confused because all their scans and tests showed that her fertility levels were healthy. And lately, she’d begun to sigh in relief every month she found out she wasn’t pregnant. Pansy had never really been keen on the idea of motherhood, anyway. She didn’t like the idea of little babies stealing the attention away from her. And she certainly didn’t want to change any nappies or clean up after children. No. They’d have to hire a governess and the House Elves would undoubtedly take on some of the responsibility.

But what did it all matter now? Her husband barely touched her anymore.

“Anyway,” she shook herself out of her thoughts, “I brought you something.” She pulled a vial of something honey colored, thin and runny, out of her jeans pocket. “This is an extra-strength healing potion. It’s…It’s kind of generic because I don’t really know what Theo used on you, but maybe it’ll help.”

She popped the lid of and held it to Draco’s lips, lifting his head into her lap with her other hand as she scooted closer to him. “Can you drink it?”

He murmured incoherently and she took advantage of his parted lips. He drank most of it, only some trickling out the corner of his mouth and down his chin. She wiped it away gently and laid his head back against the floor.

“I’ll try to bring more, it’s sold in Diagon Alley. I don’t think this will be enough.”

As she rounded the staircase she heard a quiet, sigh-like “thank you.”

* * *

Hermione had finally called for the others on the last day of Easter break, telling them she had pertinent news and they needed to meet as soon as possible. Tonks offered up Grimmauld Place and within a couple of hours, Order members began to arrive and take up space around the kitchen table that had been all too familiar to them only a decade earlier. Neville and Luna arrived first, neither one of them preoccupied with work that day. They came hand in hand and sat on the flooring playing with Teddy while they waited for the others to arrive. George joined them on the floor, entertaining Teddy with an array of theatrical voices and accents while Angelina went to help Tonks tidy up the kitchen and prepare some food. Next came Bill, apologizing for the absence of his mother who had decided to stay with Fleur and Victorie as Fleur had been feeling ill all day. Harry and Ginny stepped through the fireplace, brushing soot off of their shoulders, followed closely by McGonagall who had entered through the front of the house, giving Ginny a knowing look and inconspicuous squeeze of the hand as she bid everyone hello.

Ron flooed in, smelling of sea salt having traveled straight from his shift at Azkaban. He exchanged a look with Tonks, a mixture of longing and curiosity that was lost on everyone except for Luna, who had entered the kitchen silently. Shacklebolt swooped in with an air of anticipation and energy, his long purple and gold embroidered robe flowing out behind him majestically.

The others began to take their places around the table, exchanging hellos and wondering where Hermione was. Tonks had gathered up a sandwich and glass of milk, taking them to her son in the parlor and instructing him to stay put with his dinner and toys until she told him otherwise. She kissed him on the head and tussled his hair, before casting a muffliato around the kitchen so his young ears wouldn’t hear any of the meeting’s details and placing the house under extra protective spells. Just as she pushed the door to the kitchen open she heard a sudden collective gasp, a loud clamor, and Ron exclaiming “ _Merlin’s balls_ ” before she caught sight of Hermione’s curly hair and Snape’s lanky black hair. Ginny had caused the clamor by leaping up and knocking over several water glasses as she threw her arms around both Hermione and Snape. When Ginny pulled away she was wiping her red-rimmed eyes, her cheeks flushed, her breath short.

A chorus of questions sounded throughout the room for a good minute or two before everyone quieted down enough to let Snape recount his story. Tonks moved around the kitchen, now that the other the twelve other members were seated, preparing more tea, levitating the tea pot back to the table and making sure everyone had a scone or crumpet in front of them. Peril might burden them outside this house, but she was going to make sure that they had some semblance of normalcy inside 12 Grimmauld Place. Looking around one last time, she nodded, satisfied and took a seat across from Ron, between Luna and Harry.

Snape told them about Theodore’s plans, confirming that Nott had been behind the attack in London on New Years, the release of Barty Crouch Jr., and had used the Imperious Curse on Draco to lure Snape to him, as well as the use of some heavy drugging potion. “I was completely disoriented or knocked out for at least a day. I haven’t been able to investigate just what he used, but whatever it was, it’s not from the United Kingdom and probably highly illegal.”

He paused, taking a long drink of water, and murmurs filled the silence. 

“He is bent on causing as much havoc as possible. He wants us to basically hit reset on the Wizarding world, at least here in the U.K.”

“He must be the one behind the protests. They started a couple of days ago in Diagon Alley but since have spread to other areas,” Shacklebolt’s deep voice rumbled through the room.

Hermione’s eyebrows were knitted together in deep concentration. “Do you think he was behind the Dragon Pox-Measles epidemic? I mean, it seemed a strange mutation, the hybrid of two different diseases, one Muggle, one Magical.”

“He didn’t say anything about that, but I think it’s highly likely.”

Hermione frowned. _All those children gone_. “But why? I don’t see how that makes sense if he wants to protect the Wizarding world.”

“He’s trying to cause as much chaos as possible. The ends justify the means. If there’s disorder, pain, and chaos then people will see the need for change. They’ll be more militant about change.”

The room grew quiet, the tension within the room intensifying; a thick, dark shroud of dread descending upon them.

“But their group is small, right? They should be easy to stop.”

“Apart from the growing number of protesters, as Kingsley has informed us, I believe there’s only a few members that are the core part of Theodore’s pack. Four or five.”

Ginny glanced at McGonagall, remembering the prophecy. But she knew couldn’t say anything without disrupting the events to come. She bit her bottom lip.

“You said the older Carrow siblings were there in the woods, right?” she spoke up, clasping her clammy hands in front of her.

“Correct,” Snape nodded.

“I’m sure they’ve been aided in some way by their younger sisters. I mean, I know we don’t have definite proof to incriminate the twins, but it seems likely they’d be in contact at least.”

Hermione sighed. “If only we’d gotten more information from Draco.” She restrained herself from looking at Harry, but the anger and resentment in her voice was palpable.

“And we still aren’t clear on Pansy’s role in any of this either,” Angelina shrugged.

“So if we count on Theodore letting Crouch loose again, no doubt he is waiting for another opportune moment to do so, that would make seven possible suspects,” Ginny looked around the room, meeting the eyes of the other Order members deliberately although her heart was pounding in her chest.

“We still outnumber them if that’s the core group at least,” Harry finally spoke up.

“And Draco?” McGonagall inquired, raising her eyebrows at Snape.

Snape’s face fell for a brief second before he gathered himself. “I left him there,” he admitted. “I was barely strong enough to apparate myself. And if I had crawled towards him it would have surely been noticeable to our captors…I regret not being able to do more to help him.”

Hermione laid her hand on his arm tenderly.

“What should our next course of action be?” Bill asked, looking at Snape for guidance.

“I still think it would be wise of me to turn myself in to the Muggle authorities,” Snape answered.

Hermione bit her lip, grimacing.

“Really? You can’t be serious? We need you here, especially now that we know what Nott and company are up to!” George said emphatically.

“We still don’t know how you’re going to prove to them that wasn’t you in the New Years Eve attack,” Ginny’s voice was thick, her face pale with concern. “It’s not like you can obliviate everyone involved and from the sound of it he’d be less than willing to participate in the Pensieve process. He seems terrified of our community.”

“It may make things more complicated for our community if I don’t go. We need to rebuild trust with the Muggle world.”

Hermione nodded solemnly. “I agree. But can we at least formulate a plan on what to do with Theodore and the others before we send you off to London? I’m worried the confrontation here might need to set precedence.”

Snape looked uneasy but agreed.

“Right, so” Harry spoke authoritatively, taking the lead. “I don’t think all of us should confront Nott and his group at the same time. We’re going to need reinforcements, but it might be better not to lay all our cards out on the table right away.”

“I agree with Mr. Potter,” Snape said, nodding his head. Harry sat up a little straighter, caught by surprise at having Snape agree with anything he said.

“If they only have five or six,” he glanced at Snape, “then they shouldn’t be too terrible to overpower. I say we should take seven in, leave the rest of you for backup.”

 _Seven,_ Ginny thought, _they’ll have seven._ But she remained quiet.

“I’m in,” Ron volunteered first.

“As am I,” Snape nodded at Harry.

“Me too,” Hermione’s soft answer came next.

“Great, four, we need three more.”

“Count us in,” Neville grabbed Luna’s hand as she nodded quickly.

Ginny picked at her finger nails, knowing Harry would be unhappy with her volunteering, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let her husband, brother, and best friends go into a fight without her. “I’m in too.”

Harry gave her a pained look. He wanted to protect her, wanted to demand that she rest and save her strength for a baby. But he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Ok,” he dragged his eyes away from his wife and scanned the room. “That works well, because I think we’ll need Tonks to hang back to monitor the situation as a whole and send in reinforcements if we need them.”

“Do you think we should recruit some more members into the Order, just to be on the safe side?” Bill asked.

Everyone looked towards Snape, even Kingsley, as he silently contemplated Bill’s suggestion.

“I think that at this point it would perhaps be wise,” Snape started after a minute, “the Order used to be larger than this and now that we have a clearer idea of what we’re up against, a few more members could be beneficial.” He looked around at the other twelve members. “We have thirteen here, plus Molly.”

“Fleur too,” Bill added. “Although she would need to be more behind the scenes. We’re expecting another baby,” his cheeks flushed. He hadn’t planned on making the announcement so soon, but here it was and he was met with a chorus of congratulations and a slap on the back from George.

Only Luna noticed the way Harry grabbed and squeezed Ginny’s hand; the way she blanched but put on a smile for her brother.

“We can offer our house as a safe house or secure meeting place again, if need be,” Bill added.

“Septima Vector is in the know now as Deputy Headmistress, so it’s only appropriate she’d be added,” Hermione chimed in.

“What about the other professors?” Angelina asked.

“I don’t think they all need to know. But I think we should add Sebastian Keighly and Poppy Pomfrey,” Snape concluded.

Hermione and McGonagall nodded their approval.

“Hestia Jones,” Tonks suggested. “I can’t believe we haven’t already added her.”

“Of course. Can you contact her?” Snape requested.

“Yeah, we have lunch every now and then, or we used to when I had more time on my hands,” Tonks answered.

“Perfect. Let’s start making a concrete plan of when and how to confront Nott,” Harry was ready to get down to business.

They pulled out their schedules and began coordinating with each other.

“Mummy! Can I have some hot cocoa?” Teddy shouted from the other side of the door. Tonks looked up from the Auror schedule she was scrutinizing. “Yes…oh errrr,” she flicked her wand at the door, remembering she had cast a muffliato before the meeting had begun. “Yes, Teddy, give me just a couple of minutes, dear.”

“I can get it for him since you’re busy with that,” Ron smiled at her from across the table and began to stand.   
“Oh, really, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t mind. I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks now, I miss the kid.” Ron crossed the kitchen and stepped into the pantry.

“Ron’s going to bring you some hot cocoa,” she shouted at her son again. Teddy’s enthusiastic “yessss” earned smiles from around the room.

“Just the other day he was telling me how much he loves his ‘uncle Ron,’” Tonks grinned as Ron emerged from the pantry with the cocoa mix. They shared a smile, before Tonks dropped her eyes back down to the schedule in front of her, her cheeks growing pink and hot.

“I’ll be in here with Teddy if anyone needs me,” Ron announced a minute later, carrying two mugs of steaming hot cocoa.

“Buddy!” they heard a second later. Teddy laughed with joy. Tonks couldn’t hide her smile.

Suddenly a patronus appeared, a large bear. Shacklebolt shot up from his seat, recognizing it. “It belongs to one of my aide’s.”

“Kingsley, protestors have stormed the Ministry building demanding your resignation. There are hundreds and are threatening violence if you don’t resign.”

* * *

 **A/N #2** -The “rabid cur” reference is from Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

To all my readers that have stuck around and have continued to encourage me, I thank you with all my heart. I’ve wanted to write fanfiction since 2002 and this was my first real, actual attempt to follow through with something and push through the doubts. I’ve enjoyed working on my writing skills along the way.

I know this story has some very dark and sad parts in it and I know it’s not for everyone. It’s just the story I needed to tell. I wanted to have some real life, social issues within this story; I wanted my contribution to the fanfic world to have that social and political commentary.

Updates will be more frequent this summer. This story will probably be finished by the end of the summer.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** -Alright, let’s try to get this chapter to pass the Bechdel test! (google it)  
> A reminder that the British Prime Minister remains unnamed in this story and is in no way a reflection of real life British politicians.  
> I meant to get this chapter out last week but I just wasn’t happy with it and went through 3 different versions (one of them drastically different than the final result).  
> No one caught the major foreshadowing I dropped in the last chapter, at least no one said anything…. O.o 
> 
> **Disclaimer** -I own nothing.

Silence.

Theodore Nott’s revolution had begun.

Eyes wandered from Shacklebolt to Snape, nearly everyone holding their breath. The only sound came from Ron and Teddy’s muffled voices in the other room.

“He acted sooner that I expected,” Snape said calmly.

“This is the worst possible moment, the students are all returning this evening,” Hermione massaged her temples, her elbows propped up on the table.

“You and Neville should get back to the school as soon as possible. Filling Vector and Keighly in would be most beneficial,” Snape responded, tapping his finger tips together as he considered their options.

“I should get back to the Ministry.” Shacklebolt’s chair scraped against the floor, a loud, jarring sound.

“I think you should resign.”

“What?!” several people gasped, all eyes now glued to Snape’s face.

“Yeah, well we’ll see about that,” Ron chuckled over his shoulder before coming to a dead stop when he noticed the palpable tension and panic in the room. “What happened?” he asked suspiciously.

“People are calling for Kingsley to resign, they’ve surrounded the Ministry building,” Ginny filled him in.

“Well that bloody blows. Throws a bit of a wrench in our plans, doesn’t it?” Ron gave a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. Ginny rolled her eyes.

Ron resumed his seat. “So what now?” he raised his eyebrows.

A spark of electric tension seemed to whizz through the air, as the others waited with baited breath to see how Shacklebolt would respond to Snape’s direction.

Slowly, Shacklebolt began to nod his head, never once breaking eye contact with Snape. “Ok,” he said quietly.

“Request to be put under house arrest,” Snape continued, “and order your assistants to step down as well. Hopefully we can avoid as much bloodshed as possible. If anything starts to go awry, try to send one of us your patronus or an owl.” Snape looked around the table. “Have George be your primary contact. He’s the least conspicuous out of this group.”

“Thanks?” George winced, not sure how to take Snape’s remark.

Shacklebolt’s chair scratched against the floor one last time as he nodded. Bill gave him a quick handshake. “Good luck.”

“Everyone else should feign ignorance. Tonks, contact Hestia Jones like we planned, we could use another pair of eyes and ears in London.”

“Should Harry take a full Auror shift tomorrow?” Hermione asked.

“What is his schedule supposed to be?”

“He has two morning classes and then Neville and I cover his afternoon classes.”

Snape gave a curt nod. “Keep that schedule. Everything must seem normal if we’re to delude Mr. Nott.”

“And what will you do?” Tonks asked.

“Wait and see what his next move is. Perhaps it is better if he doesn’t know I’ve returned to you. He’ll assume, I’m sure. But for all he knows I could be wandering around, still half-drugged. He’ll be waiting to see what you do,” he looked pointedly at Tonks, then to Harry, and finally at Hermione, pausing for a few seconds at each pair of eyes. “I want to see what his next move is. A delayed response might throw him off guard.” He planted his eyes on Harry, his expression warning the younger man not to act recklessly or hastily.

The group disbanded quickly after that, brief handshakes, hugs, and quiet murmurs as they departed. Tonks looked around the now empty kitchen, hands on her hips, and sighed. She had the night off but she felt torn between staying with her son and going in for work.

“Mummy?” she heard Teddy’s voice faintly.

“Coming, love.”

At least Ron would be on duty. Maybe she could check in with him after she put Teddy to bed.

* * *

Two nights later…

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail, which was so worn down by this point that her even flesh fell victim to her gnawing now. It was 2am and this was, yet again, another sleepless night. She couldn’t turn her mind off, couldn’t stop mulling over Theodore’s concerns. She felt uneasy remembering his indictments…not because she found them so appalling, but because she saw some TRUTH to them. And it made her think…which led her to realize that she actually thought the wizarding world needed even more reforms than just what Theodore was proposing.

And all of this increased her anxiety as she wondered how the other Order members would react to her own concerns. The wizarding world certainly didn’t seem to invite or embrace change all that often. Hermione had pushed reform before, regarding the house elves and S.P.E.W., only to have older witches and wizards, purebloods and halfbloods, and hell-even the elves themselves-vehemently shoot down that idea. And while Shacklebolt was the best minister Hermione had ever witnessed in the wizarding world, Fudge and Scrimgeour had been subpar _at best_.

There were no term limits for a minister, elections happened infrequently _and_ mostly seemed to be a result of an insider’s club, a wizard oligarchy of sorts. Upon closer examination, elections appeared to be a façade; each new minster seemed to be chosen by a select, elite group. Hermione knew Dumbledore was case and point. He’d been offered the minister position by said elite group before he became headmaster and had refused.

Hermione had done some researching, trying to find out more about the government structures in other wizard communities. Her research had led her to investigate some Muggle governments as well, finding that in the United States there was a popular vote, but that the ultimate deciding factor for their president was something called the electoral college-a secretive, elite group that that pledged votes, even before election day-and had the final say. At times in American history, the president had not won the popular vote, but had been chosen by said electoral college.

And aside from politics, just thinking about the legal and judicial system made Hermione’s mind prickle. The Wizengamot could hardly be considered an example of fairness and justice. Azkaban was a living, breathing hellhole, even with the changes Shacklebolt had made in an attempt to promote human rights. Discrimination within society (and not just with the house elves) was rampant, specifically when it came to the Goblins. Goblins weren’t represented in the Wizengamot and weren’t allowed to have their wands after the Rebellion of 1612. They were looked down upon and despised by most wizards and witches. Hermione shook her head in frustration, it just wasn’t right.

She was disappointed in herself by just how complacent she’d become. She had not given more than a passing thought to any of these problems since the end of her S.P.E.W. campaign.

“Severus?”

He glanced up at her from behind _The Daily Prophet_. “I know that look,” he surmised, an amused twinkle in his eye. “You had it frequently as a school girl whenever you were concocting a plan.”

She squinted her eyes, staring off into space, seemingly not really hearing what he said. “Do you think the Muggle government is fair to us?”

Now _that_ surprised him and he lowered the newspaper, the whisper of its pages rustling as he refolded it. He scrutinized her from where he sat in an armchair in her-no, his-well, their-bedroom. She hugged her knees to her body as she sat atop the bed in pajama shorts and a jumper, her hair pulled into a messy bun, which was also a telltale sign that she was concentrating deeply on something.

“History has not been kind to witches and wizards,” he began quietly. “Although more recent events would not shed us in a particularly favorable light. And by recent, I mean within the last century.”

She sighed and finally looked over at him, the dimly lit room casting shadows across both their faces. Only the fireplace and a few candles provided any light.

“I was reading-“

“Of course you were.”

She glared at him in annoyance before she continued, choosing to ignore his smirk. “I was reading about the decision for wizards and witches to cloak themselves in secrecy; the reason behind it.”

“Hmm, yes,” Snape had become pensive as well now, staring into the fire.

“And there have been breaches, yes, but our government, whatever its faults in the past, has tried to follow and appease the Muggle government’s wishes. And yet, it’s still not enough. It’s like they want to…” she trailed off, shaking her head as if waking from a daze.

“Cage us up? Put us on reservations? Exterminate us?”

She gaped at him, not believing he was serious. “That’s a bit extreme.”

“Perhaps the last option is, but the other two appear to be plausible if things keep progressing the way they seem to be doing.”

“So you think Theodore has a point?”

“I do. I don’t agree with his methods, but I believe there is legitimacy to his fears.”

“Hmm…” It was Hermione’s turn to mull over the conversation. She propped her chin up on her knees, feeling like the weight of the world was on her once again.

“Purebloods have this history of mistrust and fear of the Muggle world deeply ingrained in them, as I think you noticed quite quickly as a first year student here.”

She nodded.

“It’s not just fear and distaste for what they don’t understand. The history of wizardkind, especially when pureblood families were more numerous, keeps the memory of the serial witch hunts and torture, intimidation, and executions at the hands of the Muggles fresh in the memory of each generation. Not to merely hold a grudge-although that is certainly part of it-but to memorialize the ancestors they lost.”

“Like martyrs,” Hermione said quietly, her lips brushing the skin of her knees.

“Precisely. Some in the Muggle world might equate the famous witch hunts of the 15th, 16th, and 17th Centuries as ethnic cleansing.”

Her head shot up, her eyes wide. “Really?” she exhaled.

“It’s a controversial term to use and maybe not the most appropriate, but there are some similarities. A population is told that their culture, their faith, their lifestyle, their ethnicity or race, is wrong, their ways are strange, that there isn’t a place in society for them. They’re cornered by a more numerous, dominate population. They are tortured, in the case of religion they’re intimidated into converting or face death…but we can’t just convert can we? We can’t just make ourselves non-magical, even if we do stop practicing. Our only option is to conceal it, to hide it; either deny who we really are or fully hide ourselves from the rest of the world.”

“But Theodore supposedly has evidence they want to monitor us more closely.”

“It’s not so hard to believe, there have been murmurs of magical registration and monitoring for years now.”

“That’s why you believe him?”

He bent his head to indicate yes, but said nothing else. She watched his face curiously.

“I’ve been thinking about the ministry and our laws a lot today.”

“As have I,” he responded. He templed his fingers in front of his lips, as he waited for her to continue.

“I think there are a lot of changes our society could use. But I’m not sure how most people will take to the changes. Wizardkind seems slow to adapt to change.”

Snape nodded solemnly, understanding her meaning. “A common obstacle, many people are slow to accept and embrace change. What changes do you recommend?”

Hermione sighed, staring at her toes. She knew she could trust him to not ridicule her ideas or questions and that he seemed like-minded when it came to issues like reform, but she felt nervous nonetheless.

“Azkaban is a horrid place,” she began slowly. “I think we need prison and institutional reform.”

He watched her closely, waiting patiently for her to elaborate, even though she had paused as if bracing herself for his reaction.

“I don’t think we should use it for a prison anymore. I think we should just give it back to the Dementors,” she continued quietly.

Now _that_ shocked him a little. She was unsure of that idea, he could tell. When she was confident she was bold and outspoken. A bit _bossy_ , even. But now she sat, her shoulders hunched as she studied her toes like she’d have to pick them out of a lineup in the morning.

But he couldn’t say that he disagreed with the idea of giving Azkaban back to the Dementors. “That would surely solve the problem of them of them wandering around homeless, and terrorizing the population,” he verbalized. “Do you know the best way to get rid of Dementors?”

“How?” she perked up, glancing at him.

“Don’t allow them any souls to harvest. Starve them.”

Hermione hmm’d, looking pleased that her idea was met with approval. “The ministry needs changes too. Maybe not complete overhaul, but we _need_ to have a better relationship with the Muggle government and with non-humans in our society.” She straightened, no longer preoccupied with memorizing what her feet looked like. “It should be more representative of our population. And the more I think about it the more the Wizengamot horrifies me.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Snape’s expression barely changed but Hermione saw the slight twitch in his lips to indicate a playful smirk.

“What is?” she asked half amused, half irritated that he was being cryptic while she was trying to have a serious conversation.

“You. Sitting up straight, with your head held high now. Speaking with confidence, that air of presumptuous, know-it-all superiority oozing from your aura. The meek, mild, unsure of herself Hermione is a shameful abomination.”

“You’ve gone positively mad.” She laughed, flinging a pillow at him; he promptly caught before it could hit his face. “I have strong memories of you wanting to possibly strangle me while I was a student for being a bossy, pretentious, little show-off.”

“What can I say? I’ve softened.” He rose and in three long strides he was hovering over her, his pupils dilating. “I love my bold, assertive Hermione.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a few seconds. “Your ideas have merit and should be explored, but perhaps they should wait until morning,” his voice purred in her ear as his kisses trailed down her neck.

Remarkably, Snape slept soundly that night despite the peril that seemed to have befallen on wizard society. Hermione guessed it had something to do with the physical and magical exertion he’d been through only days before. But, like the previous nights, she couldn’t sleep, trying not to toss and turn until she finally gave up and retreated from the warmth of the bed covers to avoid waking her lover.

She decided to sit by the window with a gray wool blanket around her shoulders and watch the sunrise, a steaming mug of tea in her hand. She sipped slowly, her mind churning as ideas flashed through her mind.

Her muscles ached when she finally rose to get ready for the day. She lightly brushed her lips against Snape’s forehead before grabbing her wand and shrugging on her teacher’s robe, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The room was solemn, as students and teachers filtered in; everyone could sense the strain and tension within their society, even if the younger students didn’t quite understand it.

Hermione took out her timetable and day planner, musing over her to-do list as cutlery clanked against plates and quiet chatter filled the room. From the corner of her eye she saw Neville glance at her curiously a couple of times, but two other professors sat between them, preventing any kind of private conversation between them. She could feel him practically itching to ask about Snape’s plan and sent him a tentative smile before snapping her day planner closed.

“Septima, I will be out of my office for an hour or so this morning,” she said quietly, looking to the deputy headmistress sitting to her right. “I’ll just be in Hogsmeade, if you need me.”

“Of course,” Vector smiled warmly at Hermione. “Everything will be ok here. The extra security wards are holding up very well.”

“Excellent.” Hermione stood and smoothed the front of her robe and surveying the remainder of the students in the Great Hall. She felt an enormous burden, although having Vector and Keighly as members of the Order did ease Hermione’s anxiety. She made her way past the four house tables, smiling and greeting students who met her eyes. Like with Elizabeth, Hermione was determined to shelter the students from the dangers that lay beyond the castle’s walls. She’d be damned if any of these teenagers felt the weight of the world on them like Harry, she, and her school mates had.

* * *

“Gallagher,” Pansy whispered urgently. Despite expecting her request to be answered, she still jumped at the abrupt CRACK. Gallagher, one of the Nott’s house elves, looked around in confusion, his purple eyes practically glowing. Pansy was huddled inside a dark closet, watching him closely with baited breath.

“What can I do for my mistress?” Gallagher bowed low before her.

“That’s right, I am your mistress, aren’t I?”

Gallagher bowed even lower, assuming he must be in trouble for something. “I live to serve you, my mistress.” His ears drooped and his bottom lip quivered.

“And you want to help me, don’t you?”

“My name means ‘eager helper,’” he rose, sweeping his hand over his heart with gusto.

“Do you want to please me, Gallagher?” Pansy asked ardently, leaning in towards him.

“Yes, my mistress, Gallagher does.”

“Will you help me with something?”

“Yes, yes, I want to help you more than anything!” He practically jumped with joy.

“Theodore can’t know, though. Can I trust you?” She held her breath.

“Oh,” his eyes widened to twice their size, nearly bulging from his head. “Mistress can trust Gallagher, Gallagher is loyal and is only wanting to help.”

A small smile played at the ends of her pink, shiny lips. “Good.”

* * *

Hermione turned the page, grimacing at the full page drawing of a witch burning at a stake. Townspeople gathered around the condemned woman, pointing and gawking; even young children were depicted as crowd members. Hermione read the woman’s story with tears glistening in her eyes.

 _Bathsheba Lockhurst, age 17, of Devon, was accussed by her neighbors of practicing sorcery. Miss Lockhurst was known to speake spells, conjure objects out of thin air, and reported to be seen flying on a broomstick at night. The Lockhurst family was known for keeping to themselves, never attending the local parish, and had never called for the local doctor to visit the family home. Many speculated that they had supernatural healing powers and therefore never required medical attention of any kind._ _At her trial, Miss Lockhurt’s hair sparked and smoked when she became agitated by the questioning, therefore proving the accusation. She was taken to the stake within hours of her trial. Her family members-mother and father and two younger brothers-were also executed the next day._

Hermione swallowed hard, turning the page and stifling a sob. Page after page had countless stories and drawings of those killed for being magical. People reported having seizures whenever they made eye contact with a witch, foaming at the mouth when someone cursed them, little children levitating objects or people (Hermione covered her mouth to hide a teary smile as she remembered what Harry had done to Marjorie Dursley).

Hermione sighed. Little children didn’t know how to control their magic, of course accidents were going to happen. She had even caused a few things to shatter and break as a young child, without intending to, when she’d been angry. And in intense emotional situations it was still hard to contain and control, even as an adult. She suspected, as she read some of the stories, that not all of those killed actually had magical powers. Quite a few of the stories seemed more like personal vendettas, blackmail, and outlandish accounts of demonic possession; accusing someone of witchcraft and sorcery was an easy scapegoat.

 _No wonder Wizardkind wanted to conceal itself so desperately,_ she muttered to herself as the bell above the door to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop jingled.

Ginny tucked some of her long red hair behind her ear as she approached Hermione’s table in the corner. “Is everything ok?” she asked worriedly. “Well I mean, besides the obvious issues.”

Hermione rose to hug her friend. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of it. How’s Harry doing?”

Ginny sat with a thump. “He’s Harry. Off to save the world. I think Ron and Tonks will have their hands full just trying to get him to stick to Snape’s plan.” She shook her head. “Luna will be here in a sec. I saw her down the street wrestling with something in a bush. I can only imagine what she was doing.”

Ginny bit back a smile as the bell jingled again and their blonde friend stepped in. “Sorry I’m late, I thought I spotted a niffler in the bushes,” she said in her endearing, sing-songy voice. “I’d hate for it to wreak havoc in Hogsmeade.”

“Was it a niffler?” Ginny asked.

“No, it was just a large mole.”

Hermione hid her smile behind her hand.

“ _What_ are you reading, Hermione?” Ginny looked down, her face twisting with disgust as she looked over a gruesome picture of a man getting drawn and quartered. Madam Puddifoot took that moment to approach the girls and ask for their drink order.

“Oohhhh that’s not the most cheery reading, is it?” she remarked as she looked over Luna’s shoulder at the book as well.

“Well, no, it’s not,” Hermione admitted, feeling awkward and tugging on the ends of her sleeves. “I’ll have a chamomile tea, please.”

“I’ll have some matcha tea, thank you,” Luna ordered.

“I’ll take some green tea with honey, thanks,” Ginny smiled at Madam Puddifoot over her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a jiff. But really, dearies, you shouldn’t be reading such glum stories; real life can be dreary enough as it is.”

“Ok, tell me what’s going on? _Why are you_ reading about witch burnings and torture?”

Hermione glanced back and forth between her friends. “I wanted to get your feedback on some things,” she began slowly, fidgeting in her chair. “Specifically from a pureblood point of view.”

They grew quiet as Madam Puddifoot served them tea. Ginny’s spoon clinked around the porcelain cup, as she stirred the honey in, flipping the page of the book and reading over Clarence Pittsley’s story, one in which stones were tied to his arms and legs to drown him in a lake. It was only when Madam Puddifoot was back behind her counter, humming to herself, that Hermione continued the conversation.

“What would you guys think if we were to get rid of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Assessing their startled looks, Hermione could tell she had thrown both her friends for a loop. Luna recovered quickly, her eyes and mouth softening as she resumed her usual dreamy, thoughtful expression.

But Ginny sat completely still and stiff, not making any eye contact with either of her friends, her delicate white fingers tensely wrapped around her tea cup.

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea, ‘Mione,” she confessed quietly. 

“Why not?” Hermione prodded gently.

Ginny gestured at the book. “Because of stuff like this. I know not all Muggles were complicit and that many of them wouldn’t want to harm us today, but it’s better that we’re protected.”

“But don’t you feel belittled and discriminated against having to hide yourself away?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’d rather keep my identity a secret from most of the world, than have my head chopped off and my body roasting on a stake. You come from that world, how do you feel about it? You probably have the most reason to be upset about it, growing up there and knowing they might not fully accept you.”

“I just feel like we should be treated as equals. We shouldn’t be ostracized.”

“But we _agreed_ to it. I’ve only ever heard of a couple of wizards or witches who decided to integrate and live as Muggles. It’s just better this way. I don’t see it as discriminatory as much as self-preservation. Especially now that they have more technology and weapons compared to then.” Again, she gestured at the book. “Would we stand a chance at defending ourselves if the lot of them decides they don’t want us around?”

Hermione raised her teacup to her lips, sipping slowly and letting Ginny’s opinion sink in.

“I always felt sad for Muggles. They must live such ordinary, uninteresting lives. Imagine being without Blibbering Humdingers to spice up your life?”

Leave it to Luna to lighten the conversation.

“Or nifflers to chase,” Ginny joked.

“Exactly!”

Hermione set her cup down, resolutely. “Then what can we do to make things safer for us? And to help build better relationships within _our_ society?”

They spent another two hours talking over ideas, comparing observations, and mostly coming to an agreement. When Hermione left to return to Hogwarts she felt more sure than ever that the Wizardkind was on the way to some beneficial reform.

* * *

“Hello wife.”

Pansy stopped dead, one foot already on the first step. The parlor was dark, but there Theodore sat, watching her in an owlish way.

“Hi,” she walked towards him, fighting against her nerves or at least trying to.

“Late night at work?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, fiddling with random things inside her purse. “You’ve given us a lot to write about.” She faked a smile; that was something she’d always been good at.

“All good stuff I hope?” His mouth smiled too, but his eyes were hard and distant.

“Of course. Everyone applauds you.” A lie. No one said anything to her face, but she’d overheard two separate conversations in the _Prophe_ t’s office just that day, and more as she meandered around various shops in Diagon Alley over the course of the last three days. Her husband may have some support, but clearly not everyone felt optimistic about his little coup d’état. But Pansy had no qualms lying to her husband, especially as of late.

“Hmmm…” he studied his fingernails. She didn’t understand how he could even see them in the dark.

“Well…” she said after a few awkward moments of silence, “I’m going to head to bed, I’m awfully tired.” She stretched her neck as if that proved her exhaustion.

“Goodnight.” His voice was just above a whisper, so soft and tender. But Pansy didn’t fall for it. He was trying to read her. _Merlin, if he had Legilimency skills he’d be an unstoppable force._ “Goodnight,” she said in a sugary sweet voice, turning on her heel.

Just when she had reached the stairs again his voice broke through the uncomfortable silence. “You’d never betray me, would you, Pansy?”

She groaned internally. _He knows. He has to know._

“You think that little of me?” she cocked her head to the side, looking deeply wounded at his insinuation. The trouble with being married to a fellow Slytherin was that they could see right through you and the games you played. _Trust no one_.

She wouldn’t break eye contact, no matter how much his stare unnerved her.

“Of course not,” he finally said.

She began climbing the stairs. “Good night, Theo.”

* * *

Hermione was falling. She heard screaming but everything was muffled. Was she screaming or someone else?

She fell on top of him-Severus Snape. She reached for his face, cradling his head with one hand, the other caressing his cheek. He wouldn’t open his eyes. There was blood smeared across her palms and fingers. Was it hers or his?

 _No._ She choked back her tears. She tasted blood.

Pain shot through her, disorienting her. Her vision blurred. She struggled to breathe.

A green mist descended on her and Snape. It felt cool and dewy on her skin. _Breathe._

She studied Snape’s face under her flickering eyelids. Everything hurt. Her heart beat slowed.

She leaned down to kiss him. She was only sure of one thing in life at this moment; she loved him, this brilliant curmudgeon man. The intensity of the realization made her ache even more than whatever spell had been hurled at her.

 _“Hermione,”_ he gasped. _“Stop always trying to save me.”_ Blood trickled from his mouth as he spoke with a shaky breath.

 _I love you._ But she couldn’t get the words out. She tried. She opened her mouth, willing herself to speak. Nothing.

 _Damnit, Hermione, speak!_ Her anger flared.

The light began to fade from his eyes, his skin turning a gray pallor. He was slipping away from her.

 _Not all is lost,_ a soothing, foreign voice inside her head reassured her.

Hermione woke to find herself burying her face in her pillow, the wet cloth sticking to her cheeks from where she had cried into it. She laid very still for a few minutes, processing the dream. She couldn’t shake herself from it. Her clock read 3am. _What’s another night without sleep?_ She thought groggily.

 _Oh well, at least I can work on the next part of my plan,_ she reasoned, slipping on some clothes and heading to the office.

* * *

 _Hi mum and dad,  
_ _I need some help with something, actually it’s really important. Can we meet for dinner tonight? Loli, the owl, has instructions to wait for your response.  
_ _Love,  
_ _Hermione_

 

 _Hi Cho,  
_ _I was wondering if you would be available to meet for coffee, as soon as possible? It’s about the…well…current political situation, but I want your expertise on something.  
_ _Sincerely,  
_ _Hermione_

 

Hermione carried another handful of letters up to the Owlry. _Milicent Bulstrode. Megan Jones. Ben Cooper. Kevin Entwhistle. Tracey Davis. Rolf Scamander. Anthony Goldstein. Mandy Brocklehurst. Seamus Finnegan. Maisie, Alfred, Ellie Cattermole._

This was her fourth visit to the Owlry in the last 12 hours. But she felt confident this was her best chance at attaining peace and reconciliation.

* * *

“Weeee’rrrrrre baaaaaack,” Alecto Carrow sang running her fingers along the dark gray stones in the wall as her black robe and skirt brushed against it, a rustling sound accompanying her gait.

“It feels like we’re home, don’t it?” Amycus sneered. He stooped down, looking through the bars at a prisoner sitting on the floor. “Ello there, Frank, did ya miss us?”

“Oy, Frank wasn’ able to escape last year?” Alecto called out. “Pity that.”

Amycus straightened. “Don’t worry, mates, we’ll treat ya all ‘ery nicely.”

Alecto cackled, what teeth she had left looked like worn down, yellowed fangs.

“What’s you two doin’ back here?” a male prisoner called out, leaning his face against the bars to get a better look at the deranged siblings.

“Well haven’ you heard? We’s in charge here now. There’s been a change in the ministry,” Amycus answered

Alecto paused, looking out a window. “We’ll be makin’ some changes. Starting with welcoming some old friends back.” She pointed her wand at the window and began to chant in Latin. The prisoners who could see her watched with a mixture of horror and fascination.

“Come back home,” she finished in English, in a voice that sounded possessed, her eyes rolling back into her head.

Silence.

And then the billowing black figures of Dementors swarmed the prison, like bees arriving at their hive. Alecto threw her head back, completely unhinged, her body shaking as she burst into another round of crazed, maniacal laughter.

* * *

Constellations swam around him, the stars twinkling, everything rippling like lapping water. He seemed locked within the darkness, enveloped by the stars. Some of the constellations grew brighter. _Capricorn._ He turned a quarter of a circle and saw _Virgo._

_“But why her, Albus?”_

Snape turned sharply, trying to locate McGonagall when he heard her voice behind him. But he was alone.

 _“Because she is naturally suited for him,”_ Albus’ voice rang in his ears.

_“How much of this did you orchestrate, Albus?”_

_Yes, Albus, how much did you orchestrate?_ Snape thought irritably, echoing McGonagall’s sentiment.

_“Let’s just say the stars aligned and gave me perspective.”_

Snape clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

 _“Their signs are both earth signs.”_ A new voice joined in; Snape’s mind strained to recognize it, the answer on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t…quite…discern it. _“Once there is a bond between the two it will be close and steadfast. Kindred spirits.”_

Snape was about ready to rip his own head off just to quiet the voices. His head pounded every time they spoke.

 _“I just want to see you happy, Severus. That is all.”_ Dumbledore’s voice sent a sharp pain through his head.

His reality shifted and he found himself stumbling, falling onto the wet grass. Hermione fell over him.

“You have to go, Hermione,” he urged as she gripped his face between her hands.

“I’m not leaving you,” she insisted. “I didn’t leave you last time and I’m not leaving you this time.”

“Hermione, please…”

“I love you, Severus Snape. I love you, you stubborn old man.”

 _I love you more than I ever thought possible,_ his mind answered back.

He saw the light of the curse just before it hit her in the back. Her scream was blood curdling.

He jolted awake, his eyes snapping open in panic. Hermione was gone, but he saw light coming from the office. He groaned, leaning back against the pillow, rubbing his hands over his face.

It had been a long time since he had had any kind of dream like this, something prophetic, he felt. _Damn divination. Damn dreams. And damn Dumbledore._

* * *

“Minister, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Hermione smiled confidently as she shook the Muggle Prime Minister’s hand.

“Us?” he asked with a frown, his eyes drifting behind her and glazing over as he saw more people than he could easily count.

“Yes, actually, I have quite a large group with me. Let me introduce a few of them to you, I’ll spare you full introductions since our time is limited.” She stepped to the side to make room as Harry and her parents came forward. “These are my parents, Susan and John Granger. Neither of them possess magical capabilities. I’m what one calls a ‘Muggle born,’ meaning that neither of my parents are magical, but I am. There are theories on why and how that happens, but again, I’ll spare you the details right now. I have, however, written up a summary of those theories that I’ve already left with your assistant.

And this is Harry Potter, he’s a bit famous, so I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” The Prime Minister stepped forward, caught off guard but clearly recognizing Harry’s name, and shook his hand.

“Harry is a “halfblood,” again, a term used among witches and wizards. His mother was Muggle born, like me, while his father had a pureblood pedigree. Harry was raised by his non-magical aunt and uncle until he began attending Hogwarts, so he is pretty well versed in Muggle culture.

And this is Nymphadora Tonks. She is one of the Head Aurors, similar to a police chief. Her father wasn’t magical, but her mother was. She was raised using magic and although her father didn’t always completely understand it, he embraced her wife and daughter’s abilities and identities.

Now, before I start overwhelming you, I want to introduce two more people in person. The others,” Hermione gestured to the group she’d brought with her, so numerous that they couldn’t all fit into the conference room and were crowded around the door and out into the hallway,” have all written their own stories and petitions to you. Your assistant has those as well.

But this is Cho Chang.” Cho stepped forward and assertively stuck her hand out. “Hello,” she said sweetly, but raised her eyebrows as she appraised him.

“Cho is a pureblood witch, but she is employed with Muggle Liaison Department within our government and looks forward to working with you and your government more closely after this meeting. It seems as though her talents and dedication to the job have been somewhat under used and I hope we can rectify that. She is also engaged to a Muggle, he is out there in the group somewhere. He said he’s never had any doubts about their relationship or differences and feels that treating witches and wizards any differently for something they can’t help is on par with racism.”

The Prime Minister’s jaw dropped and Hermione paused for a dramatic effect.

A dark blur edged around the side of the room, catching the Prime Minister’s attention. Severus Snape stood on the periphery, his arms crossed and a stern look, his most imposing teacher look, worn on his face.

“You,” the Muggle Minister began, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of fright and suspicion. “We expected you days ago.”

“I did not willingly disappear, your honor,” Snape’s voice was filled with quiet dignity and respect, although his expression continued to be menacingly terrifying.

“Sir, this is the last guest I’d like to formally introduce. Severus Snape, as you already recognize, is the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, although I’m currently acting as Headmistress until we sort everything out. Severus is also a halfblood, his mother was a witch, his father a Muggle. Severus is one of the most distinguished and recognized wizards, he is a Potions Master and has brewed both complicated antidotes and experimented and created his own potions that have benefitted our society.” Hermione held her chin high, daring the Prime Minister to challenge her.

“We have proof that Severus was framed that night fellow wizards broke the Statue of Secrecy. A wizard named Theodore Nott was behind the attack, as part of the plan to achieve his own personal machinations and vendetta. Severus Snape is innocent and is willing to prove it in more ways than one.”

The Prime Minister narrowed his eyes even more, so much so that they appeared as thin little slits across his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m listening,” he grunted.

“I am willing to take a lie detector test, of course” Snape stepped forward, his face devoid of any emotion. But something about his countenance remained open, vulnerable…approachable.

Hermione sucked in a short breath, her heart feeling like it was jumping and flipping, ready to leap out from the confines of her body. She couldn’t believe just how much she loved him; it felt entirely different from any other emotion she’d ever experienced. He was the bravest, most clever, brilliant, ingenious, adept man she’d ever met and she wanted to shag him as much as she wanted to pick his brain. She recalled the dream the other night in which she couldn’t, for whatever reason, tell him how much she loved him. She made a mental note to tell him more often, to never stop telling him. To bathe him in her love.

“And after that,” Snape continued, “I have other methods of proving my innocence, but they rely on magic. So I will leave that up to you.”

The Prime Minister consented to the lie detector test. Snape only hesitated, his blood pressure only slightly rising when asked about his history as a Death Eater, turncoat, and spy. But when it was over the Prime Minister at least looked mostly mollified. He waved his hand to dismiss Snape’s offer to use magic to continue proving his innocence.

Hermione and Cho then took turns discussing wizard’s concerns with representation and safety. The Prime Minister listened, but continued to keep a stern expression, his body language defensive and a bit off-putting.

“I’d hate for your party to lose so much influence in Parliament. A pity what that will do to the coalition you already struggled with to form in the last election,” Susan Granger’s voice sounded as smooth as silk.

The Prime Minister stiffened, visibly perturbed.

“We’ve supported your party for years, we’d really hate to have to change parties,” Susan continued, looking to her husband.

“Mine and my husband’s too,” Miranda Creevey interjected, folding her hands in front of her and looking at the Prime Minister pointedly as she spoke on behalf of her husband, Brian Creevey. “But we won’t hesitate to change party affiliations if it’s in the best interest of our wizard sons, Dennis and Colin.” Both boys sat beside their mum.

“If I may,” McGonagall stood in formality, drawing everyone’s eyes to her. “I am Minerva McGonagall. I’m 71 years young. I’ve served through two wizard wars, two Muggle wars, and as the Headmistress of Hogwarts. My father was a Presbyterian minister and a Muggle. I have lived through the tenure of many prime ministers, Muggle and Magical, and I have to say I am most disappointed with your conduct in thinking that you can overpower and bully us,” she gave him her most reproving look, one often reserved for the Weasley twins or other notorious troublemakers at Hogwarts. It seemed to have a similar effect on the Muggle Prime Minister, he inched down in his seat a bit, looking ashamed for the first time during the meeting.

“Our two societies have lived side by side our hundreds of years. We abide by the Statute of Secrecy. We conceal ourselves as best we can. Yes, we’ve had very little incidences with that statute, but no society is perfect. Now we’ve apologized profusely and rebuilt the damaged Muggle areas from our last wizarding war. We ask for patience and discretion from you as we continue to sort out our own issues. We wouldn’t dream of interfering in your political affairs, unless we were asked to do so. Furthermore, on behalf of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who isn’t here with us today, may I remind you that he worked for and protected the Muggle Prime Minister that preceded you in the 1990s, very dutifully and thoroughly. He has only ever shown respect for your government and Muggles and you’ve treated him deplorably.” McGonagall shook with raw emotion. 

“With all due respect, your honor,” a much older man spoke up from his seat near the back of the room. Everyone looked at him curiously, few recognizing him. Hermione smiled proudly. She’d been thrilled to track him down and even more pleased he’d acquiesced to her request. The Prime Minister raised his eyebrows waiting for the older wizard to continue.

“I’m Nobby Leach and I served as the Minister of Magic in the 1960s. I was the very first Muggle born Minister and I take great pride in my dual identity. I worked very closely with the Muggle government and we had a fruitful and respectful relationship.” Nobby shifted in his chair, the room dead silent as everyone hung on his every word. “I actually kept my Muggle status and I’ve been a loyal supporter of your party. I reckon we both want to do what’s best for our people, but surely we can work together on this.” Nobby raised his hands in a plea of surrender. “See, we’re not so scary when you get to know us.”

Eyes drifted back to the Prime Minister, waiting for his response. Hermione had gathered quite a group, including members from all four Hogwarts Houses, wizard celebrities like Donaghan Tremlett, a member of the Wicked Sisters, friends and former enemies, and former and current faculty members at Hogwarts.

An owl swooped into the room, quickly followed by a three of the minister’s assistants. “Jolene, what is going on?!” the Prime Minister cried out, ducking his head as if the bird were personally attacking him.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve been trying for nearly ten minutes to get the bird out of here!”

Several witches and wizards giggled or smiled at the comical display. Snape watched the bird shrewdly. Finally the bird got close enough to drop its letter in Tonks’ lap, before gracefully flying out of the room, continuing to avoid the large net the Minister’s assistants were flailing around.

Tonks locked eyes across the room with Snape, her hands fumbling to open it. She read over the two sentences, her eyes snapping up to meet Snape’s.

“It’s from Ron,” was all she had to say. Harry was on his feet first, closely followed by Snape. They were already disappearing from the room as Hermione turned to her parents and then the Prime Minister. “Forgive us, sir, a few of us have to leave. Cho, Minerva, can you finish up this meeting for us?”

“Of course,” her mother replied. McGonagall nodded knowingly.

Hermione, not wanting to come off too rudely abrupt, held out her hand to the Prime Minister. “I think our time today was very fruitful, sir. I hope that you agree.”

He nodded, looking dumbfounded as Tonks and Keighly, who had also attended as a halfblood, also rose from their chairs, nodding and bowing to him slightly.

“I’ll inform Septima,” Keighly whispered to Hermione, his arm brushing hers as they walked briskly down the hallway.

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “I’ll be in contact as soon as I can. And if I can’t, Neville will be.”

Tonks handed the letter to Hermione as they continued to walk brusquely down the hallway. They saw Harry and Snape at the end of the corridor, then pushing open the glass doors and leaving the building. Hermione read over the brief note, lengthening her stride to keep up with Tonks.

_Reports that Jr. has been let loose. We’ve got a location. The others are at Victorie’s._

Ron had cleverly decided they should use a code name for Shell Cottage, even with its secretive location, they all concluded it’d be better to play it safe and use the toddler in residence’s name.

Harry and Snape had already disapparated as Tonks and Hermione emerged out into the gray, cloudy day. Though the sun hid behind the puffy clouds that threatened to spill rain at any moment, the women blinked and winced as their eyes adjusted to the change in light. Tonks guided Hermione down the street and into an alley.

“Ready?” Hermione nodded and grabbed Tonks’ arm, disapparating them out of the city.

* * *

 

The calm before the storm I guess you could say…

 

 **A/N #2** -Guys, I can’t recommend these two stories enough. If you can swallow the idea of a female!Harry you should most definitely read **Laventadorn** ’s retelling of books 2-7. Her story gives me life. She balances multiple subplots and adds so much character development to secondary & even tertiary characters. Eventual female!Harry & Snape pairing….very slow & natural progression.

The Never Ending Road-covers 2nd-4th years, completed great plot and prose, a great mixture of originality with canon elements

No Journey’s End-part II to Never Ending Road, WIP, 5th-7th books (and beyond?), only 10 chapters so far

 

** Sources: **

cracked.com article: 5 Horrifying Realities of the ‘Harry Potter’ Government

scifi.stackexchange.com Statue of Secrecy discussion

newstatesman.com: Why the Wizarding World is a Dystopian, Totalitarian Regime

potterforums.com Statue of Secrecy discussion

reddit/harrypotter

harrypotter wikia

quora.com How can One Kill Dementors discussion

 


	29. Chapter 29

****_You know what you gotta do_  
_They all depend on you_  
_You already know_  
__**How**  
__**This**  
**_Will  
_****_End_** _–How It Ends_ by Devotchka

Hermione and Tonks were bombarded with a flurry of nervous activity as they stepped inside Shell Cottage. Molly carried around Victorie on her hip, trying to balance a tray in her other hand and serve tea, while commanding Fleur, who looked very put out with her mother-in-law, to “sit down and rest, silly girl. You’re carrying my grandchild and you needn’t worry about serving everyone tea.” Victorie, her cheeks rosy and tear stained, whined, her nap interrupted by the ruckus.

Harry, Ron, and Snape were standing by the fireplace, talking low enough that no one could hear them over the commotion. Everyone else in the Order of the Thunderbird-save for Shacklebolt (still on house arrest), Vector and Keighly (at Hogwarts), and McGonagall (still in London with the Muggle Prime Minister)-sat or stood around the room, speculating and waiting for directions.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, using her best teacher voice in an effort to be heard over the group.

“We had an anonymous tip that a ‘deranged man is roaming around the Priory in Malvern Hills.’ An owl delivered it to my home,” Ron held up a slip of parchment.

“Do you think the Ministry got the same note?”

“Maybe,” Ron shrugged, “but I doubt it if whoever it wrote it sent it to my house. Seems like they’d rather us know.”

In the last week, Theodore had dismissed most of the Aurors, only keeping on a couple of low level, “yes men.” He put the older Carrows in charge, claiming they had the perfect experience handling crime, seeing as they were locked up for so long. This decision had caused murmurs of concern to ripple throughout wizarding communities, but apparently not enough to make anyone want to protest Theodore’s decision.

Harry had then been freed up to return to Hogwarts full time, much to Hermione’s relief and Harry’s chagrin. Theodore insisted that he alone be in charge of hiring all new Aurors. But that didn’t stop Ron or Tonks from sleuthing behind the scenes to gather intel, or from carrying away the most important files at the last moment before their departure.

“Do we recognize the handwriting?” Tonks leaned over Ron’s shoulder, observing the note.

“There’s something familiar about it to me,” Snape’s eyebrows were knotted together.

“Can’t we just do a detection spell?”

“We tried,” Ron looked at Ginny, who had asked the question. “Whoever sent it made sure to conceal their identity.”

“But not their handwriting…” Hermione frowned, puzzled.

“It’s bait. It’s probably Theodore and company, trying to lure us to Malvern Hills and ambush us,” Harry said confidently.

Snape continued to stare at the handwriting with a thoughtful expression.

“We should at least check it out,” Ron looked around the room. “What if Crouch Jr. is on the loose? He’s a megalomaniac, especially now with half a soul. Who knows what he’ll do.”

“Right, so, let’s get going,” Harry rubbed his hands together. “Bill, got anything lying around we can charm as a portkey?”

Bill tossed a ceramic bird-shaped figurine at Harry. Harry turned it over, it had to be one of the ugliest things he’d ever seen. “Uh, thanks…you sure you don’t mind us using this as a portkey?” he said with a hint of humor.

Bill looked at Fleur, who only rolled her eyes in response. “We’re sure. It was a wedding gift from her aunt, but I don’t think we’ll miss it much,” Bill chuckled.

“Alright, Ron, you, me, Hermione, Neville-“

“I’m going.” Ginny sprang up from her seat on the sofa.

“No.”

“Yes.” She had a fire in her eyes that surprised even Hermione.

“Harry’s right-“ Molly cut in, but Ginny waved her off impatiently.

“I’m going and that’s final.”

“Me too,” Luna stood, slipping her hand into Neville’s and smiling up at him.

“Perfect. Just like the Department of Mysteries. Plus Snape.” Ginny cocked her head to see if Harry would challenge her again.

His jaw worked back and forth, he was obviously agitated. “Fine,” he finally spoke through clenched teeth.

“Then it’s settled,” Ron cut in tentatively, trying to ease the tension. “Tonks, stay behind and organize reinforcements in case we need them. One of us will send a patronus.”

All at once everyone began shifting around the room, bidding good luck and making last minute preparations.

“Be careful,” Tonks handed Ron his jacket.

“You know I will.”

“I don’t know what Teddy would do without you if something happened to you.”

Ron smiled as he slipped on the jacket, zipping it up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said after a pause.

Ron looked startled, a slight blush rising on his cheeks, but tried to recover quickly, a valiant attempt. He threw up his typical “brave face,” which looked more goofy than anything else.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned boyishly, his cheeks still flushed.

Tonks shook her head with a faint smile as she watched him go, not feeling completely reassured. She leaned against the wall, watching his red hair disappear out the door.

* * *

All Hestia wanted in life was recognition. Recognition that didn’t include her twin. She didn’t have anything against Flora. But they did everything together. Hestia wanted to be known for something special…something that set her apart.

So she had worked on the potion that that mixed the Muggle measles with Dragon Pox. And that had earned her some accolades from Theodore for a time, but those praises quickly fizzled out. So she began seriously studying dark magic, not the usual Unforgiveables, but rather, nasty, unknown curses. She’s been studious enough in school, forming decent research habits and was confident when it came to potions, charms, and dueling.

And once she began learning darker spells than Hogwarts had ever dared to teach, she began experimenting with hexes of her own. She rather liked devising ways to subtly inflict pain, and cause confusion, slowly driving her victim insane. She had practiced on unassuming Muggles and Wizards alike.

And then she shared the dark magic, historical and her own, with Theodore. That had earned her more praise…but it always left her wanting..craving… _needing_ more from him.

Would her desire ever be fully satiated? Would he ever acknowledge and consider her more than just a pale-faced Carrow twin? More than an assistant?

* * *

Hermione tried to “land” as gracefully as possible. She couldn’t decide which she hated more, flying or traveling by portkey. Ginny practically glided to the ground next to her.

“I don’t know how you do that so seamlessly,” Hermione shook her head in amazement.

Luna and the men had landed a few feet away.

“Now where?” Neville asked.

Snape looked around with a puzzled expression, turning 360 degrees. Harry turned, this way and that way, too, as if trying to sense the danger.

“Should we split up?” Ron held out his wand, his eyes roving over the stones in the priory’s graveyard.

“No,” Snape answered gravely, “we should stay together for now at least. Malvern Hills is a large area with numerous hills and forests.”

Hermione jumped at the sound of a twig snapping, her heart nearly plunging into her stomach. Harry put his finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the woods. Slowly, they started to follow him, clutching their wands. Snape’s frown deepened as he begrudgingly allowed Harry to take the lead.

They walked further into the forest, the trees thickening, large bulging roots forcing them to continually glance down at their footing. Neville stumbled, mumbling and Harry shushed him.

“We could get very lost in here,” Ginny whispered. “This could turn very bad.”

They walked and walked and still had yet to see anyone. The forest grew colder and darker now that the branches were impeding most of the natural light. Luna shivered.

Snape shrewdly observed the landscape. Everything about this place looked vaguely familiar. But Snape had never _knowingly_ visited Malvern Hills before.

“I’ve been here before.”

Hermione could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of him. She slipped her free hand into his.

“I believe,” he started slowly, his eyes roaming back and forth as realization hit, “that this is where Theodore took me and Draco.”

“Really?” Hermione looked shocked. “It feels like we’ve been walking for hours. I was beginning to suspect it was a false tip. Do you think Barty is really here?”

“He was when I was here.”

“Do you think Draco’s still here?”

“God only knows what happened to Draco.”

They fell silent, as they walked near the others. He was grateful since he was using every one of his senses to scope out the area, his skin tingling like it used to when he had to face the Dark Lord. But there was something else plaguing his mind and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Hermione about it. These woods reminded him of his reoccurring dream; the dream where he found himself running through the trees, frantically looking for “the others.” He could assume his six companions were “the others” if he were to take his dream at face value. But…that meant he and Hermione would both be hurt.

_When?_

_How?_

_Would they survive?_

“Severus?”

He hadn’t realized he had stopped walking. Hermione’s fingertips had slipped from his hand and she watched him curiously.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing, only trying to remember,” he brooded.

* * *

The tapping at the window piqued Theodore’s irritation. Growling, he tore himself way from the stack of documents that required his attention, new laws he was preparing to enact that would punish _any_ collusion with Muggles (and it was _very subjective_ just what “collusion” meant). He saw Hestia and Flora’s owl fluttering its wings frantically.

“What the fuck is it this time?” he muttered, opening the window and untying the note from the owl’s leg. “Can’t anyone ever take care of anything without needing my help?”

His eyes had dark circles underneath them; he’d only slept an hour or two in the last 10 days.

He read the note, rubbed his eyes, then read it again.

“Fuck,” he chuntered.

“Come on,” he said a minute later, apparating into his house. He crossed the room in four long strides, unlocking a cabinet Pansy had never seen him open before.

“Where?”

“We’re meeting up with the Carrows.”

Pansy repositioned _Witch Weekly_ back in front of her face. “I was planning on going into the office today. I don’t have time to meet with them.”

“You’ll make time.”

She huffed. “They’re _your_ friends. I don’t know why you need me there.” She uncrossed and dramatically recrossed her long, slender legs.

He turned to her with a sneer. “What an interesting choice of words. _Friends_ ,” he scoffed. “I don’t have any real friends. Accomplices, yes. But not friends.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, flipping the page loudly.

“You’re coming with me or I’ll kill Draco. And then his blood will be on your hands. I doubt you want that.”

She gaped at him, her heart racing. “You wouldn’t. What does he even have to do with whether or not I come?”

He shrugged, turning back to the cabinet and slipping another bottle into the pocket inside his jacket. “I just know you have a soft spot for him. It’s drizzling out, so you might want a jumper or coat.” The cabinet closed with a bang, grating on Pansy’s nerves. He turned the key in the lock, the metal clinking and grinding.

“Shall we?” he looked at her sardonically, an eyebrow twitching upwards.

“I need to get my coat,” she gifted him with one of her sassiest expressions.

“Here, wife, allow me. Accio Pansy’s coat.” The lilac coat flew to his outstretched hand. He smirked at her.

“Where are we going?” she shrugged the coat on.

“Malvern Hills.”

* * *

They heard him before they saw him. A growl that chilled their blood. It reminded Hermione of when Lupin transformed outside the Whomping Willow tree her third year. And then, in a small clearing on a hill they saw Barty Crouch Jr. perched on his hind legs, snarling at them, drool hanging from the sides of his mouth and chin.

Harry, Snape, and Ron raised their wands in unison, but Barty vanished in an instant, disappearing down the other side of the hill.

“I heard a something like a horn,” Luna said. “Maybe it’s how they call him.”

“I doubt someone with only half a soul, who survived a Dementors kiss for so long, is easily trainable,” Ginny said.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Harry was already off running.

“Well lookee who we have here.”

The female’s voice made Hermione’s flesh prickle, the hairs on her arm rising.

Alecto and Amycus stood behind them; Alecto stroking her wand and Amycus grinning like a damned fool.

Snape threw the first hex; a nonverbal curse. And then everything became chaotic.

Ron and Harry were already far ahead of the group, nearing the top of the hill. Neville had grabbed Luna’s hand and bounded off to the right, her long blonde hair flying through the air as he led her through the trees. Ginny had decided to drop and roll towards Alecto, tripping her. Alecto fell to her knees with a thud and snarled, her head snapping up to catch the perpetrator. Ginny hurled a curse at her, stunning the older witch, which gave her time to flee back the direction they came.

Hermione took off to the left, after seeing the direction Neville chose. She assumed Snape followed her, but she wasn’t entirely sure. She struggled to dart around trees and keep her balance as she leapt over tree roots and rocks, all the while trying to spot anyone she knew-dangerous or friendly. Thin, low branches lashed against her face, tugging and pulling at her hair as she dashed past.

Finally she bent over, gasping for air, her lungs burning and her eyes stinging. Snape wasn’t behind her. No one was. She transferred her wand to her other hand, wiping sweat from her right hand on her jeans. Thankfully she had packed an extra pair of clothes and trainers in her charmed extension purse when she’d left for the meeting with the Prime Minister.

She waited until her breathing began to slow and then grew worried. She was completely alone, in some woods she knew nothing about, with at least three dangerous people on the prowl. _Why didn’t I wait to see where Severus went? Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She looked around trying to gauge the direction she had even come from in the first place. Then she heard the crunching of twigs and leaves. She tried to hide behind the widest tree near her, but knew it wasn’t very sufficient.

 _“Ginny,_ you scared me to death!”

“Where is everyone?”

“I have no idea.”

“C’mon,” Ginny took off again, taking extremely long strides.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Hermione whispered timidly.

“No,” Ginny replied shrugging, but kept up her pace. Hermione nearly had to job to keep up with her taller, longer-legged friend. 

* * *

Ginny tried to ignore the memories of Trelawney’s trembling voice prophesying about Snape and Hermione. But her mind was relentless as she weaved between the trees, Hermione trying to keep up with her. Her gut told her that this was the day the second prophecy would come true.

Should she say something to Hermione about it?

What she really wanted to do was scream and curse Merlin, or God, any god. She was so tired of saving the world. She was tired of her friends and family risking their lives for ungrateful wizards, who, in another few years would probably turn around and just cause more chaos and disruption.

She opened her mouth to spill her guts to Hermione; the prophecy be damned, it wasn’t worth it to keep the secret and lose another person she loved…but nothing came out. She didn’t think there was a spell preventing her from outright telling Hermione (maybe there was), but it was more like she just couldn’t bring herself to tell Hermione. What do you say in a situation like this, ‘hey you’re going to die today’? And even worse, ‘Trelawney said so.’ Trelawney predicted nearly every single one of her students at Hogwarts to die, every year, for years on end. Granted many did die in the Battle of Hogwarts, but not nearly as many as Trelawney pointed to with a shaky hand and dramatic voice like they were going to drop dead in the classroom right then and there.

And Ginny knew how Hermione felt about divination…and Trelawney’s ostentatious airs. She could just see the look of horror on Hermione’s face if she told her about the prophecy, and Ginny was sure the look of horror would be because Trelawney was involved, not because of the foreboding prophecy itself.

She huffed, irritated. _Damn that prophecy!_

Maybe, just _maybe_ Hermione wouldn’t die…didn’t have to die. Maybe the prophecy meant something else. Prophecies were always stocked with riddles and hidden meanings anyway. Ginny pressed her mouth shut and continued on, refusing to glance at Hermione for fear she really would break down.

* * *

This is exactly what he’d been dreading. He ran through the trees, one of the branches hit his cheek, slicing the skin. It was starting to drizzle.

_Where is everyone?_

He couldn’t find _anyone._

Not the Order members.

Not Hermione.

Not the Carrows or Barty.

They should have never split up. What a terrible idea.

His legs felt sluggish. Despite being locked away, hiding in his rooms at Hogwarts for the last week, he still didn’t feel as rested as one might assume. His magic had yet to completely “heal” from Nott’s drugging potion, and then his escape back to Hogwarts. Apparating with what was left of his magic that day had been a miracle.

His head felt like it was spinning. _Damnit, everything is so disorienting here._

It had grown so cold he could faintly see his breath in the air. He thought about sending his patronus to Hermione, but then reconsidered. It could make things worse if Hermione was hiding and someone were to see it. And so he walked on, hoping and praying, although he was not a religious man, that he’d find her or at least one of the Order members soon, straining his ears for any hint of someone, _anyone,_ nearby.

* * *

“ _There he is_ ,” Harry ducked behind a tree, pulling Ron with him. Barty, fittingly, was crouched behind a fallen tree, licking sores on his arms, like a dog licking his wounds.

“He’s 100 percent daft,” Ron looked like he was ready to throw up. “Put him out of his misery, mate,” he gripped Harry’s shoulder from behind.

Harry hesitated briefly, before raising his wand.

“You know it’s for the best. For him and everyone,” Ron said soothingly, picking up on Harry’s uneasiness.

Harry nodded. Fortunately Barty hadn’t yet noticed them.

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

In a flash of green, Barty Crouch Jr. finally met his end.

Ron clutched Harry’s shoulder. “You ok?”

Harry clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Yeah. Let’s find the others.”

* * *

Draco was finally sitting upright, although his face was still pale, his cheeks gaunt when Gallagher, the house elf, appeared before him.

“Sir,” Gallagher bowed as if Draco was his own master.

Draco eyed the house elf warily. Gallagher had been attending to him for three days now, bringing Draco food and water, restrengthening potions. Draco could swear that Pansy had been bringing him these things before, but in his drugged state he wasn’t completely sure if it actually had been Pansy’s voice or just a hallucination.

“What did you say your name was?” Draco’s voice was hoarse. It hurt to talk. He swallowed. More pain.

“Gallagher, sir. I have more water and potion for you.”

“Where are you getting all this potion?” Draco threw the vial back, letting the liquid slide down the back of his throat. He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Diagon Alley, of course, sir. Mistress is wanting me to make sure your magic is as healed as possible.”

“Pansy?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Pansy Nott.”

“Is she here?” Draco perked up a bit.

“No, sir. She and Master Theodore left a bit ago.”

“Oh,” his face fell.

“But I have this for you!” Gallagher said quickly, seemingly trying to cheer Draco up.

“My wand!” Draco cried, his voice cracking.

“Yes, sir. I get it and return it to you, on orders from mistress.”

Draco turned the wand over and over in his hand, like he’d never held it before. His blue eyes snapped up to Gallagher’s electric purple eyes.

“Do you know where they went?”

“Yes, sir. I always can find them if I need to.”

“Can you take me there?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Finally, _finally_ Snape saw a clearing in the trees. Again, it looked all too familiar. But his legs carried him towards it, because he knew he’d find Hermione out there. So it was no surprise to him when he saw a large, gently rounded hill set before him as he reached the edge of the forest. He heard shouting and saw Neville and Luna dueling the Carrow twins to his right. A dark lump of black robes laid motionless on the ground to his left.

He ignored his foreboding instincts and began up the hill. He suspected he’d meet Theodore at the top, preparing for the worst.

* * *

Amycus groaned, rolling onto his side, slowly recovering from whatever hex that stupid red headed girl had used on him. He looked up, his vision still blurry.

“Alecto? Flora?” he grunted.

“Hestia?” he tried again after a pause.

He pulled himself up to his knees, wobbling. He saw someone standing near the trees, in a white, or purple, or silver jacket-he couldn’t quite tell. He squinted, then rubbed his eyes.

“Bloody hell, where is my wand,” he mumbled, stretching his hands across the wet grass and groping for the 15 inch walnut and kelpie hair wand.

His eyes slowly regained focus, the fog clearing from them. Severus Snape was right in his line of sight.

* * *

Pansy watched Amycus from a distance, leaning against a tree where she could keep an eye on the action, but avoid it if she could. She’d seen Amycus get taken down. _What an idiot,_ she thought as she saw him stroking the ground. _At least that Weasely girl got him good._ She smirked. She would have fought any one of them if she needed to, but no one had noticed her yet, so she hung back and watched. Amycus had been slammed to the ground and knocked out by the she-Weasley. _Potter’s bloody wife. Gross._ Alecto had taken on _Granger,_ fairing much better in her duel than her sour-faced brother. But Alecto had fled once the red-headed siblings and _Potter_ had joined Granger, disapparating with an evil glint in her eye.

The twins were fighting the stupid Longbottom boy and Loony Lovegood. The match was perfectly boring to watch, a bunch of vanilla hexes and curses thrown at each other, the only one who really seemed to want to cause any serious amount of pain was Hestia, no surprise. Hestia was a wildcard, unpredictable and seemingly just as vindictive and maniacal as Theodore.

But it was her interaction with Snape that unsettled Pansy the most. He had slinked past her, and she had almost thought he hadn’t even seen her, but when he turned his head ever so slightly, she remembered that nothing escaped Snape’s notice. She gripped her wand, holding it by her leg, waiting with baited breath to see what he would do. He had his out, but kept it lowered, pointing to the ground between them.

Strangely, he only studied her for a brief moment, recognition flashing across his face like an ‘aha!’ moment, before his eyes narrowed in that ‘Snape suspects something’ expression so quintessentially tied to his persona.

“Thank you for the tip.”

 _Was he sneering or genuine?_ She couldn’t discern.

She lifted her chin, obstinately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It took all her self control not to break eye contact with him.

“No, I guess that wasn’t your handwriting I recognized after years as your teacher and Head of House,” he said quietly.

He waited for a few seconds, but she felt tongue tied. It was only when he began to walk away that the words tumbled out of her mouth, feeling like a jumbled mess of vowels and consonants barreling over each other. “Itwasn’ttotrapyou.” 

“Just so you know,” she added quickly when he shot her a look over his shoulder.

“I know,” there was a gentleness to his voice.  

Pansy slipped back into the woods after that, not sure what to do with the uncomfortable emotion building within her. She supposed this is what truly caring about people, other than herself, felt like. And she didn’t much like it.

* * *

One could say that the look on Amycus’ face was a sinister grin, but the way it twisted and contorted made it seem more like the former Death Eater was writhing in pain. His hand had finally found his wand and he gripped it tight. He supposed he was lucky that the stupid girl hadn’t thought of stealing it from him.

Snape was climbing the hill, seemingly unaware that Amycus had recuperated from the curse that had hit him. He pointed his wand and took aim. He dared not move closer, lest Snape notice. But Snape seemed to be looking for something or someone else. “A bit distracted then are ya?” Amycus muttered under his breath.

And then he cursed Snape. “Crucio!”

It turned out Alecto had a very similar idea. She had reappeared on the scene, hitting Snape with a nonverbal curse from another vantage point before disapparating again.

* * *

Snape fell to his knees, willing himself not to collapse entirely. He tasted blood.

Snape raised his arm to respond in kind, but Amycus hit him again.

“Pertundo!” he heard Amycus scream.

Pain coursed throughout his body, alternating between rapid pinpricks to full-blown stabbing sensations; his legs, his arms, his chest-every inch of him seemed susceptible to this spell. He crumbled to the ground, the effects of all three curses too much for him to overcome.

* * *

Hermione sprinted up the hill when she saw Snape fall. She slid to her knees, her arms bracing her fall a couple of times because the grass was wet and the hill was steeper than it looked. She was sure her heart had never thumped that fast or hard against her chest. She flung herself over him, searching his face and chest, pressing her fingers against his neck and feeling for his pulse.

 _(_ **If I should die this very moment, I wouldn’t fear**  
**_For I’ve never known completeness, like being here  
_ ** _I’ve found the one I’ve waited for_ _)_

“Can you stand? We need to get you out of here.”

Snape didn’t answer, his eyes fluttered up and down quickly behind his closed lids. She moved her hands across his forehead and cheeks, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold.

 _Get. Out. Of. Here._ Her brain screamed. _I can’t leave him,_ her heart snapped back.

* * *

Neville hit Amycus with a particularly painful hex to his legs, while Luna performed the expelliarmus, his wand soaring through the sky and landing somewhere no one else saw. They ran around him and regrouped with Harry, Ginny, and Ron, huddling closely and trying not to topple over in the wind as they watched Hermione lean over Snape. Ginny couldn’t tell if her cheeks were wet from her own tears or the drizzle.

“We’ve got to go, we’ve got to help!” Harry yelled frantically. Ginny held him back.

“No, she needs to do this herself.”

“What?! Are you crazy?!” Harry cried out incredulously. “They’re literally sitting ducks up there.” He threw his arm out, pointing at them dramatically. “We have to go save them!”

“No,” Ginny repeated, her eyes sad as she watched Hermione and Snape. “She has to save Snape.”

Harry looked back and forth from his wife to Hermione and Snape.

“What? Ginny, you’re not making any sense-“

“What’s that?” Neville pointed. “Look, what _is_ that in the air around them?”

A faint green mist had appeared, enveloping the two of them. It grew stronger over the next minute and began pulsating as if to the rhythm of a heartbeat. Ginny scrunched up her face. She’d certainly never seen anything like this before. Harry watched on in awe.

“It’s her aura,” Luna’s voice was faint, the wind carrying it away.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Neville squinted.

“My mother told me about it. It’s a spell used in arranged marriages. When both partners have finally made peace with the arrangement and reciprocated their love for each other it would glow showing their auras.”

“I thought that was just an old wive’s tale,” Ginny’s hair whipped across her face and she hastily tried to push it away as more strands caught in her eyes and mouth.

“My mother said it’s quite real.”

“But they’re not in an arranged marriage?” Ron blinked.

 _Or maybe they have been arranged by a nosy headmaster claiming it the universe’s destiny and the prophecy’s requirements. Sounds exactly like what happened._ Ginny held her tongue though-no-she _literally_ had to bite her tongue to keep from mentioning this.

“Why is it green? Doesn’t green mean jealousy?” Harry asked, now completely distracted from his quest to rescue Hermione and Snape.

“It can. But as an auric chakra it means healing and love. Forgiveness and harmony. Green chakra flows from the heart.”

A sudden gust of cold air swirled around them.

“She’s healing him, then,” Neville concluded. Ginny looked on, knowingly, trying to recall Trelawney’s exact words. Something about Hermione as “the healer” and “shielding him with her love” but at the expense of her blood.

“What are those white orbs? Look, they’re just popping up!” Harry asked, snapping Ginny back to reality.

“Popping” was certainly one word for it. Luminous and milky white, these orbs, which looked almost like someone was blowing bubbles, floated slowly in the air. The wind didn’t seem to have any affect on them and they lingered around Snape and Hermione.

And whatever it was, it made Luna gasp.

* * *

“Hermione,” Snape said weakly. He heard her saying something, her hair tickled his cheeks as it brushed against either side of his face. He could hardly open his eyes.

“You have to go, Hermione,” he urged as she gripped his face between her hands.

“I’m not leaving you,” she insisted. A fat tear rolled down her cheek.

“Hermione, please…” 

“I can’t…I won’t.”

She smelled like vanilla. He inhaled deeply, even though it was excruciatingly painful to breathe through his nose. He had a sudden flashback to the first time he had breathed in that rich, heavenly scent: the Hogwarts Christmas party when he could barely keep his eyes off of her. He hadn’t even fully recognized that he had feelings for her at that point.

And now, here they were, in complete and utter danger, and he was reminiscing about what a dolt he’d been not to have recognized and acted on his feelings sooner.

He tried to shake his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I can apparate us to St. Mungo’s, just put your arms around me, I don’t want to splinch us.”

He tried to raise his arms around her, he really did. But any and every movement felt like he had a million stones tied to his arms, weighing him down and slowly crushing him to death.

“You’re always trying to save me.” He hoped he was glowering at her, but he knew the attempt was feeble.

“I love you, you know that right?” she sobbed. “I just need you to know that.”

“I know.”

“Come on,” she lifted one of his arms to drape it around her neck, but the moment she leaned a little too far the other way to get a good grip around his waist it slipped back to the ground.

“I’m not leaving you,” she repeated. “Is there a healing curse I can perform that would help?”

Snape was wheezing now, his lungs spasming uncontrollably. Hermione bent over him, her tears falling on his cheeks. She was mumbling some generic healing charm. He rolled a piece of her hair between his fingers. Even this slight movement was torturously painful, but he couldn’t help himself, even if it was the last thing he did.

“I love you, Hermione.” It wasn’t much more than a whisper, but she heard it. She pressed her forehead against his.

“Do you want to die?” she sniffled, her nose brushing lightly against his.

“What?” he croaked.

“Like last time…you wanted to die. You sa-said ‘it wasn’t how it was supposed to go’ when we talked about me being in the…in the boathouse with you.” She hiccupped.

His mind strained to remember. Yes, he had said that. And yes, he had wanted to die. Then.

He took a shaky breath. “No, I don’t want to die.”

A sob escaped her lips as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his thin lips.

* * *

Tonks couldn’t sit still. She had chewed her nails down to the nub.

“Something’s wrong. I know it. I can _feel_ it.” She jumped up and then sat down again, bursting with energy. Her hair was not only sparking every few minutes, it was rapidly changing colors. From silver to lime green to turquoise to brown to black to orange to purple. George had been silently guessing which color would come next so he didn’t have to sit and stare at the clock wondering about his baby siblings.

“I’m sure they’re ok,” Bill said calmly, trying to be the voice of reason, as his mother trembled at the dining room table. “One of them would have surely sent for help by now if not.”

But Tonks could feel it in the pit of her stomach. _Something_ wasn’t right.

* * *

Theodore had watched Amycus’ attack on Snape. And now was his chance. The girl with a rat’s nest for hair ran up after the professor. _How idiotic to love someone so much that you willingly put yourself in danger._

He took a few steps up the hill, the bottle inside his jacket thumping against his chest. He withdrew it, clutching it tightly, willing himself to be brave enough without it. But his resolve faltered just a little bit more with each step.

 _Fine, one little swig,_ he reasoned with himself.

_You’re going to need a lot more than one little swig if you want to knock off your old professor. The Head of your House. He probably knew you better than your own father did._

He cursed his own mind for taunting him. _I can do it. I’m not afraid._

He popped the cap, taking a quick and discreet sip of Felix Felicis. And then a second. He immediately began to feel more relaxed, the tension evaporating. He replaced the Felix Felicis in his pocket and picked up his pace.

* * *

On the other side of the hill, the twins watched Theodore approach Snape and Hermione, his prey targeted. He looked perfectly calm; his face didn’t register any emotion, no hesitation or nervous excitement in his step. Nothing except sheer focus. Neither had seen him take a swig of Felix Felicis.

The wind was so harsh it stung the girls’ faces.

“Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” Hestia replied irritably. What made her twin think she knew where the others were if she was standing right beside her?

“Well let’s move around the bottom of this hill and go find them.” Flora had already started to edge away.

“You can go,” Hestia snapped at her sister. “I’m staying here right now.” She wanted to watch Theodore in all his magnificence, his moment of triumph. He walked with steady grace and proud determination, his wand out before him, ready to do his bidding. Hestia secretly hoped that someone would knock Pansy off that day. She didn’t deserve Theodore.

Flora shot her sister a disgusted look. “He’d want you to help fight them, not stand there and gawk at him, you stupid cow.”

“Piss off, Flora.”

“You look ridiculous, I hope you know that. Pining after a man who is already married and doesn’t actually give a damn about you.”

“I said piss off!” Hestia seethed. The glare she gave her sister could cut like a scythe.

Flora shook her head. “Whatever.” She stalked off in Amycus’ direction.

* * *

“What?! What are those things? What did your mother tell you about them?” Harry talked so fast it took everyone a moment to comprehend what he’d asked.

Luna’s eyes were owl-like as she watched the white orbs with fascination. “It means she’s pregnant.”

Everyone’s heads snapped towards Luna and then back to Hermione and Snape.

“Now we really have to go help,” Harry said in awe.

“They’re all on the other side of the hill, I think,” Neville said.

“Alright, let’s go,” Harry said.

“Where’s Ron?” Ginny glanced behind them, where he had been just minutes earlier.

“I dunno,” Neville responded, just as puzzled.

Ginny threw her head back and groaned. “We need to stay together.”

“Nott’s up there!” Harry yelled. From their position they hadn’t been able to see him until then. But now…it was too late. Theodore’s wand was steady, a curse already rolling off the tip of his tongue.

* * *

Neither Snape nor Hermione had noticed Theodore approach from behind, too distracted by trying to console each other. Theodore hit Hermione in the back with transverbero, a spell Snape was unfamiliar with. Her eyes grew twice as wide, the blood draining from her face as her breath hitched. She looked like she was trying to scream but no sound came forth. And Snape didn’t have the strength to help her.

It was like she was stunned, unmoving and silent. Her body had gone rigid, probably in an attempt to protect itself, cradling its resources in survival’s instinct.

His senses tingled briefly just before jet of green light shot out from Theodore’s wand. He knew Theodore intended to use the killing curse on them. Would it kill them both simultaneously or take Hermione from him first? He preferred the first, if death was imminent. He didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t imagine life without Hermione by his side.

* * *

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Theodore screamed.

And a blur of red hair.

Ginny’s scream was blood curdling. Harry grabbed her from behind, but she kicked and tried to throw him off with all her might, thrashing against his arms.

“Nooooooo,” she wailed, the sound was deep and raw, emanating from the back of her throat and filled with anguish. “Roooooonnnnnn!”

Theodore had the nerve to smile and prepared to repeat the curse again, this time for his intended victims.

 

* * *

**A/N-** Sooooo chapter 11 might be REALLY useful to re-read before I post chapter 30.

I searched really hard on google maps to find a spot in England that matched the scenery I’ve been visualizing in my head for this chapter. I’m quite satisfied I found something nearly identical to what I’ve been imagining.

 -

Chapter 30 preview:

“I’m taking them to St. Mungo’s!” Neville yelled over his shoulder. He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life as he charged up that hill. It would take an effort to apparate them, but he didn’t want to risk only taking one at a time. He wrapped his arms around their lifeless bodies as much as he could, concentrating with all his might, his face turning tomato red from the effort. He held his breath and closed his eyes.

And didn’t open them until he heard unfamiliar voices.

“Severus Snape,” one of the mediwitches recognized the professor. “Bring stretchers, quickly!” she called out to someone down the hallway. She turned back to Neville “what happened?”

 - 

Thank you for reading, reviewing, and favoriting. The responses I got for the last couple of chapters between here and ff.net have made my heart soar with happiness. They’ve meant so much to me. Thank you.

-

 _How It Ends_ by Devotchka

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pfi1UQ_PKQI>

 


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